


It Knew It Had No Place Left to Go

by Robomantic



Series: Tuck Me In [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Comeplay, Derek is a jerk, Dirty Talk, Emotional Manipulation, Fingerfucking, Happy Ending, Infidelity, Love Triangles, M/M, Obsessive Behaviour, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rebuilding the Hale House, Regret, Rough Sex, Scenting, Self Harm (burning), Sharing Clothes, Somnophilia, Stalking, Stiles is a Mess, Unhealthy Relationships, Voyeurism, peter is a creep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 15:09:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 64,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robomantic/pseuds/Robomantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fall out of Derek's cheating and Stiles's revenge sex.  In other words, angst and more bad decisions on everyone's part.  </p><p>Peter isn't above taking advantage of a messy situation, Derek has no idea what he's doing, Stiles ends up going down a path he never expected, and eventually the whole pack ends up involved and affected by the situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stiles

**Author's Note:**

> STEREK SHIPPERS! This is your official notice/warning! While the Sterek relationship (past romantic relationship) is a big part of this story, this is definitely a Steter (as endgame) story with a side of pack feels, and a little Scisaac. Happy endings for all, I swear! Just bear through the angst and it will all be worth it (I hope :/). 
> 
>  
> 
> Title (and the title of the series) is from [Tuck Me In](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HowlIqf1c2M) by Alkaline Trio.

“With Peter, Stiles? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Derek snapped, rising to his feet. Stiles was having a hard time teetering between guilt and anger. On the one side, he would have been a lot more confident in rubbing his tryst in Derek’s face if it had been a stranger. After all, he figured they would be on even ground since it had been a stranger Derek had cheated on him with. Then again, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be on even ground with Derek. He wasn’t sure if he wanted retribution or to punish Derek. 

“Fuck you, Derek. You have no right to be pissed at me. Who the fuck was that guy you were with? Do you really think what you did was better just because the guy you fucked wasn’t my relative or my enemy or my fucking friend? Do you really want to try and take the high ground here? Because I’m pretty sure you don’t have a fucking leg to stand on.” Stiles snapped.

“I’m going to kill him.” Derek said. It didn’t sound so much like a threat as a statement of fact. At least his reaction lent some credence to the idea that they were in some kind of relationship. Derek’s eyes were red and his canines were extended. Stiles wasn’t particularly surprised. If anything was going to trigger his alpha self to wolf out, this would be it. Instinct told him to back down, but the boiling rage in his gut directed him otherwise. 

“Yeah, you already tried that once, buddy. What is that pisses you off, exactly? Is it that you don’t like sharing your toys? Is it that you’re afraid I enjoyed it? I’m not gonna act like I didn’t. You can smell it, you know I enjoyed it. Did you enjoy yourself, Derek? Was it worth it?” Stiles snapped, taking a step towards Derek. He refused to be cowed by the big wolfy displays of anger. 

“You want to be with Peter? Go for it.” Derek growled. He turned like he was going to walk away, but there was no fucking way Stiles was letting him have the last word. 

“Don’t you dare walk away from me. You have yet to explain yourself at all. You keep bringing it back to me and Peter, but you were the one who fucked up in the first place. You really think I would ever touch Peter if you hadn’t done this? You really think I would have touched _anyone_ else if you hadn’t done this?” Stiles said, stepping in front of Derek to block him from leaving. Derek tried to push past him. 

“I’m fucking serious Derek! You’re not going anywhere until you explain yourself. I think I deserve that much. “ 

“You need to get the hell away from me, Stiles. I can’t talk to you like this. I honestly don’t know what I’ll do right now. You smell… you fucking smell like I need to rip something to fucking pieces and yet you insist on doing this. You need to get away from me.” Derek hissed. 

“The quicker you give me an explanation, the quicker you can go take your rage out on some innocent bunnies.” Stiles said, not giving Derek any ground. Derek snorted incredulously, making it very clear that it wasn’t bunnies he wanted to take his rage out on.

“You want to know the truth? I don’t have a good reason. I can’t just tell you something that’s going to make it make sense and make everything better. I freaked out about being tied to someone. That’s the long and short of it. I felt like shit the moment I saw you. I tried to talk to you! You didn’t even give me a chance. You went off and fucked the first person you saw. Did it help? Do you feel better now?” Derek growled, stepping up to get in Stiles’s face. Between Derek’s ever-more aggressive advances and the fact that he was _still_ trying to turn the focus back on Stiles rather than his own fuck up, pushed Stiles to the breaking point. 

“Yeah, I really do. I feel so much better Derek. I think Peter fucked the hurt right out of me and it was _good_. The shit I did with him would make your fucking hair curl, Derek. Kill him? You oughta take lessons from him.” Stiles said, his voice shaking with tears. He was completely humiliated by his stupid body’s emotional responses, but between the anger and sadness and adrenaline, he couldn’t really help it. 

Derek was gone before he could try and stop him again. It was probably for the best. Stiles wasn’t even sure what he’d been trying to achieve at that point. He was just so angry that he couldn’t seem to stop. 

Stiles felt about ready to collapse. He honestly couldn’t believe all this had happened in one day. He had woken up that morning expecting to hang out with (what he thought was) his boyfriend, maybe sit around and watch the pack train, eat some pizza, head home and crash. Now he felt like he’d run both a sexual and emotional marathon. 

Derek was long gone and Stiles felt like an idiot standing there on his lawn crying, smelling like a whorehouse. He headed in the house and went straight for the shower. He didn’t get out until the water had run cold and his fingers were pruny. 

Stiles went to collapse onto his bed with no intention of waking up for at least a week, but his phone seemed to have different ideas. Stiles let it ring, but after a short pause the damn thing started going off again. He leaned off the side of the bed and yanked his jeans over by the leg so he could fish his phone out of the pocket. 

Stiles let out a squawk of incredulous laughter when he saw who was calling him. Peter. That was just what he needed right now. Curiosity won out over exhaustion and Stiles answered the phone. 

“Shouldn’t you be headed for the border by now?” Stiles said. 

_‘If I were that worried about Derek I would have left town the first time he killed me.’_ Peter said with a chuckle. Well at least someone was finding humor in the situation. 

“What do you want, Peter? I’m fucking tired.” 

_’I wanted to make sure you were alright, believe it or not.’_

“I don’t believe it, actually.” Stiles said with a snort. 

_’Doesn’t make it any less true. Derek coming after me isn’t a problem, but you…’_

“Wait, you’re kidding me. You were worried about Derek hurting me or something?” Stiles asked. It wasn’t so much that he couldn’t believe Derek would hurt him, it was kind of touch and go there for a minute, but more that he couldn’t believe Peter gave any semblance of a fuck. 

_’Is it really that strange for me to check up on you?’_

“Yeah, kinda. I mean, I was pretty sure that whole ‘I like you, Stiles’ bit was just to get into my pants. You giving a shit does not compute. I mean, you didn’t seem too worried about it earlier.” Stiles said. 

_’Can’t I be both a manipulative bastard who wanted to get into your pants and a concerned person who likes you? Are the two mutually exclusive?’_

“Um, yes? Usually.” 

_’Ah. Well I suppose I’m just special then. Is it safe to assume snark is a sign of your wellbeing then?’_ Peter said. Stiles sighed into the phone, aware that it was becoming an all too common response for him that evening. 

“I’m fine Peter. Now please leave me alone.” 

_’Alright. I’ll send you a postcard from Tijuana.’_ Peter said and Stiles actually let out a bitter little laugh at that before hanging up the phone. He turned his phone off and plugged it in to the charger and decided that there was a good chance that entire incredibly surreal conversation was some sort of auditory hallucination brought on by stress and exhaustion. He flopped back down on his bed and passed out before he could even get under the covers. 

\--

Stiles woke up the next morning with his blanket pulled up over him. He wasn’t sure if he should feel touched or a little violated that his father had tucked him in at some point during the night. Probably a little of both. 

Out of habit, Stiles turned on his phone to check his missed calls and messages. He wasn’t surprised to find that Derek hadn’t called, but he was a little surprised at how disappointed he was. He was still half hoping for Derek to apologize and beg forgiveness like he hadn’t bothered doing the day before. He realized how very highly unlikely that was. In fact, there was a good chance Derek wouldn’t bother talking to him at all. 

That thought actually made Stiles’s stomach turn. He realized he should be glad it was over. Derek had fucked up royally and with Stiles’s revenge sex fiasco, it seemed like breaking up was the smartest thing to do. Logic and reason all pointed to ‘let him go and move on’, but when had logic and reason ever mattered when it came to him and Derek? 

Maybe he just needed time, but the idea of losing Derek for good still didn’t sit right with him. In fact, it made him feel a little like he might stop breathing. He was still furiously angry and so goddamn hurt that he couldn’t stand it, but that didn’t make it any easier to let Derek go. 

Stiles realized he was going to drive himself crazy if he sat there wishing Derek hadn’t fucked up and imagining a million fantasy scenarios where things magically worked out. Spending the day alone with his thoughts was seeming less and less appealing by the second. 

The really fucked up things was that all of Stiles’s possible plans for the day revolved around Derek. The pack had been spending most days of the summer over in the preserve training or at someone’s house hanging out and generally bonding. Stiles kind of resented the fact that he was at a natural disadvantage there. It was a lot easier to lose the pack’s token human tagalong than the pack’s freaking alpha. 

God, were they going to be that couple that breaks up and fights for custody of their friends? Stiles should at least get Scott. After all, he had him first. Then again, Scott and Isaac were kind of a matched set these days and Isaac was pretty firmly on team Derek. He knew Scott would take his side, but he didn’t really want to make it an issue in the first place. He shouldn’t have to make it an issue because Derek shouldn’t have forced the whole fucking situation on him at all with his traitorous cock and philandering ways. 

Stiles forced himself to breathe and tried to lay out his options. Anyone he tried to talk to would want to know what was going on with him and Derek. There was also a solid (ok, definite) chance that any wolf would be able to smell Peter on him… in him, even. 

Speak of the devil. Just as Stiles was having that thought, his text alert went off with a [picture message](http://postcardcollector.org/forum/uploads/2010/07/postcard,%20tijuana,%20large%20letter%20linen.jpg) from Peter. Stiles let out a sigh that was quickly becoming his default response to all things Peter before replying (against his better judgement).

**To: Zombiewolf**  
 _are you honest to god flirting with me? i just broke up with your nephew yesterday and you’re flirting with me?_

**From: Zombiewolf**  
 _So you are broken up then?_

Stiles was pretty sure he should have turned off his phone again at that point, but it wasn’t like he could talk to anyone else. As fucked up as it was, Peter was his only distraction at the moment. 

**To: Zombiewolf**  
 _so beside the point. you’re like 20 years older than me. don’t make me call chris hansen on your ass._

Stiles sat his phone down to get dressed and hoped he came off a little more threatening than flirtatious. Then again, the two were probably one in the same when it came to Peter. The phone went off again by the time Stiles was dressed. 

**From: Zombiewolf**  
 _You weren’t complaining about my age when I was fucking you senseless yesterday._

Stiles’s jaw dropped. He was pissed off that Peter brought it up, but he also felt a tiny little rush of arousal when he remembered it. Even the knot in his stomach did nothing to dull the incredibly vivid memories of what he and Peter had done. 

Stiles figured that was as good a time to stop responding as any. 

Before he could sit and stew much longer, Scott called. Stiles took a couple deep calming breaths and answered the phone. 

_’Stiles?’_

“Yeah buddy. What’s up?” Stiles asked, maybe a little too cheerfully. 

_’Hey, umm do you think I could come over and talk to you?’_ Scott asked. He sounded… odd. Stiles froze for a moment. 

“What’s going on?” 

_’I just… I think I should probably tell you in person.’_ Scott said. Stiles started to panic. His mind started going through a million different scenarios. What if Derek went off and got himself killed doing something stupid? What if it was Stiles’s fault? What if…

 _’Dude, are you freaking out right now? Please don’t freak out!’_ Scott said. Stiles realized he’d basically started hyperventilating into the phone. 

“Scott just tell me what the hell is going on!” 

_’Look man. I hate to tell you this, but I’m pretty sure… I’m pretty sure Derek was sleeping with someone else._ Scott said. Well, that was one person Stiles didn’t have to worry about telling. 

“I know.” 

_’You already know? How? Why didn’t you call me or something, dude?’_

“I just didn’t want to deal with it, ok? I walked in on him with someone else yesterday and… I reacted in typical Stiles fashion and did something extreme and then Derek and I got into a huge fight. It was a long shitty horrible day and I don’t really want to talk about it right now. Wait, how did _you_ find out?” 

_’Umm, I could smell it when I went to the depot last night. Derek wasn’t there, but yeah. It was pretty obvious what went down.’_ Scott explained and Stiles could actually hear him cringing through the phone. Stiles’s first thought was ‘Ew’ and his second was ‘Wow, Derek really sucks at cheating’. He almost had to wonder….

Suddenly the realization hit Stiles. Derek had wanted to get caught, or at least some part of him did. Maybe he was looking for an out. He was too big of a fucking coward to face his issues or just break up with Stiles so he decided to sabotage himself. Why else would he take the guy to the depot, knowing it was highly likely someone would walk in on him? Not to mention, he had to realize someone would smell it and even if the others didn’t tell Stiles about it, Scott most certainly would (and did, apparently). 

“Scott, I gotta go. I’ll… I’ll call you later, ok?” Stiles said and before Scott could argue, he ended the call. 

Stiles decided to take another shower before he left. He wasn’t going to let Derek take off again this time and the less he smelled like Peter, the less likely Derek was to do so. He basically ended up doing a full body wash rinse and repeat before he got dressed. He also made sure to wear one of Derek’s shirts he’d left there. It probably still smelled like him a little and it might soothe Derek’s crazy alpha instincts long enough to get him to talk. 

Stiles got in his jeep and headed to the depot first. He wasn’t even going to bother trying to call because he knew Derek would just ignore him and probably go deeper into hiding. Derek was the king of avoidance and the master of running and hiding. Luckily Stiles had the element of surprise because there was no way Derek was expecting him to come looking for him this soon. 

Stiles pulled up to the depot and noticed right away that the Camaro wasn’t in the usual spot. He decided to go inside just in case, but he hadn’t really expected to find him on the first try. Isaac was the only one there and he was doing his best impression of a deer in headlights when Stiles saw him. 

“I already know, Isaac. You can breathe.” Stiles said. Isaac gave him a sheepish nod. “Do you know where Derek is?” Stiles asked him. 

“Umm…” Isaac trailed off. Stiles knew he was just trying to be loyal to his alpha and friend, but it rubbed Stiles the wrong way. If Derek couldn’t be loyal then why should anyone else be loyal to him? 

“Look, I just want to talk to him. If I was going to kill him I would have done it yesterday. Just tell me where he is, okay? And _don’t_ tell him I’m looking for him. If he takes off before I find him, I’m gonna hold you personally responsible.” Stiles said. 

“Come on, where else would he be?” Isaac said with a weary sigh. 

“The Hale house.” Stiles said. Of course. Where else would Derek go to sulk and wallow in guilt and self-pity than the burnt out shell of his old house? 

“Thanks Isaac. I’m dead serious though, not a fucking word.” Stiles said. Isaac shrugged and nodded and Stiles headed back out to his jeep. He didn’t think Isaac was going to warn Derek, but he was going to hurry just in case he changed his mind and decided helping Stiles wasn’t worth the wrath of the alpha. 

Sure enough, Stiles pulled up to the Hale house to see Derek’s Camaro parked out front. He was sort of glad Derek was so predictable. Well he was predictable and kind of lacking in places to hide. Had he not been there, Stiles would have just done a sweep of all the abandoned buildings in the area and he would have turned up eventually, if he wasn’t out running in the preserve. 

“Derek! Come on out. I really think we need to talk.” Stiles said. He didn’t bother yelling. He knew Derek had likely been on alert the moment he heard Stiles’s jeep. He just hoped he hadn’t decided to take off into the woods on foot. There had to be some limit to the lengths Derek would go to just to avoid him. 

“I don’t think there’s anything to say.” Derek said from behind him. Stiles jumped a little. Of course, the creeper couldn’t resist creeping up on him. Fantastic. 

“I think there is. You never told me why you did it, not really, but I think I have an idea.” Stiles said. Derek just huffed in response. 

“I think you were looking for an out. I think you were expecting to get caught. Was being with me really that bad? I mean, enough that you would go that far just to chase me off?” Stiles said. He wished he could summon up a little more venom because anger was a lot easier to handle than the deep ache of sadness that kept threatening to push him to tears. He refused to cry in front of Derek again. 

“No! I mean…. Honestly, I don’t fucking know. I’m too fucked up to be in a relationship, Stiles. Something like this was going to happen eventually. It’s not like I was making a conscious effort to get caught, okay? I just… wasn’t really trying not to, I guess.” Derek said and it was clear on his face that he realized how incredibly stupid that sounded the moment he said it. 

“Do you have any idea how much worse it was for me to walk in and see that? I mean, I would rather you send me a fucking break up email than have to walk in you fucking someone else. I would rather you throw a rock with a message taped to it through my window. Shit, you could have spray painted it on my jeep and it still would have hurt less than this. Not wanting to be in a relationship is one thing, Derek. This is… it’s fucking cruel.” Stiles said. Derek scrubbed his hand over face and took a deep breath. 

“I know it doesn’t really help for me to say I wasn’t thinking, but it’s the truth. It wasn’t like I had some premeditated plan to do this. I really wish I could go back in time and do this differently, but I can’t Stiles.” Derek said. 

“But you would still break up with me either way, right?” Stiles asked. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous to hear Derek’s answer. It wouldn’t change anything and it would probably just make him feel worse either way. 

“I think… yeah. Look, I’m not really boyfriend material. You’re young and I’m a fucking asshole. You deserve better. I fuck up everything I touch.” Derek said. Oh lovely, this routine again. Classic Derek. 

“Wow. I really wish you could have figured that out before you took my fucking virginity and spent all that time with me and fucking made me lo- made me like you. You made me think you liked me too.” Stiles said. Fuck. This not crying thing was beginning to be a real challenge. Stiles hated the way his voice kept wavering. Why couldn’t he just keep his emotions in check, just this once? 

“I’m really fucking sorry Stiles. I did like you, I still like you. I’m just fucked up. I’m really fucked up and really fucking stupid.” Derek said. He stepped forward and lifted his hand for a moment before dropping it down in an aborted move to reach out and comfort him. Part of Stiles really wished he would. He hated himself for it, but goddamn did he wish he could just wrap himself up in Derek and forget any of this had ever happened. 

“I’m gonna leave. I mean, leave Beacon Hills. For a while, at least.” Derek said, more to the ground than to Stiles. Stiles just nodded. He wasn’t going to beg Derek to stay. Yeah, Derek was just adding one stupid decision to another, but that was his prerogative. It wasn’t any of Stiles’s business what he did. Not anymore. 

Instead, Stiles just turned away and got back into his jeep. He wondered if that would be the last time he saw Derek and he choked a little. He was actually beginning to feel nauseous from trying not to cry, but he refused to let go when Derek was still in his rearview mirror. 

The text alert on Stiles’s phone went off and he didn’t have to look to know it was Peter. He had the sneaking suspicion he’d end up responding too.


	2. Derek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's POV. This covers the events from My Skin Went Sour Long Ago up to present, including a little recap of the actually cheating. In other words, there's sex here, but you probably won't enjoy it? I didn't give it too much screen-er page time, though. Writing this hurt.

Derek was very familiar with guilt. Guilt was his best friend, his lover, and his confidant and had been for years. Maybe he had become dependent on the feeling. There had to be some reason why he kept putting himself in these situations that made him hate his reflection in the mirror. 

It wasn’t Stiles’s fault. It really wasn’t. He had gotten caught in the crossfire of Derek’s constant battle with himself. Derek hadn’t meant to get involved with Stiles at all, but he’d made himself so damn hard to ignore. He crawled right under Derek’s skin and made himself a home there before Derek even noticed it was happening. He challenged Derek and drove him insane, but he also made Derek smile, actually _smile_ , for the first time in a long time. Every stupid little thing he did seemed to be either endearing or arousing, even if he was simultaneously pissing Derek off. 

It wasn’t Stiles’s fault that Derek had no self-control when it came to him. Derek should have never let it get that far. Things had fallen into some kind of comfortable routine for him and when things got comfortable Derek began to get nervous. It was when you were comfortable, when you let your guard down, that things would be taken away from you. 

Derek’s guard? It was _way_ the fuck down. Stiles laughed with his whole body and Derek felt like he was glowing from the inside out. Stiles stumbled and flailed and Derek didn’t even try not to smile anymore. Stiles kissed him and Derek felt like he might actually float away if it weren’t for Stiles holding him. That was when he realized what was going on. He was giving Stiles the power to destroy him. 

It really wasn’t Stiles’s fault at all. He just didn’t know. No one got to destroy Derek’s life, but Derek. 

So when the opportunity presented itself, he did. He locked down his emotions as best he could and tried not to think too much. He acted on impulse, pure chaotic self-destructive impulse. 

The opportunity presented itself in a guy he met at the grocery store. He was decent looking, attractive enough to be a little cocky. He approached Derek and asked for his number, but Derek did him one better and asked if he wanted to go back to his place. When they got to the depot, the guy kind of freaked out, but Derek was convincing. He made up some excuse about having a roommate with a kid. The guy seemed all too willing to buy it. Good thing Derek wasn’t actually a serial killer. 

Derek let the guy (if he’d heard his name, he didn’t remember it) suck him off for a little, but he didn’t waste too much time with foreplay before he went to find his stash of lube and condoms. 

“I take it you do this here a lot?” The guy asked with a nervous chuckle. Derek just shrugged and spun him around to press him against the subway car. He was looking for the sexual equivalent of smashing bottles against a brick wall; satisfying, destructive, and futile. 

Derek tried to go easy on the guy while he was prepping him, but he felt an anxious knot in his stomach that made him want to rush. The guy didn’t seem to be complaining so Derek didn’t really worry about it. He lined up to push himself inside and when the guy started moaning all high pitched and whiny, he wrapped a hand around his mouth and continued. 

Derek was pretty sure that if he weren’t as attractive as he was, he would have never gotten away with that shit. He gripped the guy by his hips so he could pound in harder. The nameless guy started jerking himself with abandon. Obviously he’d caught on to the fact that if he wanted to come he was going to have to help himself. Derek was already dangerously close to coming and he had no intention of slowing down. 

That was when everything _really_ went to hell. Derek had been distracted enough by the sounds and smells of sex that he hadn’t noticed Stiles was there until the boy was within spitting distance. Stiles turned and headed back out without a word as soon as Derek noticed him.

“Fuck, Stiles!” Derek shouted. The guy attached to his dick hadn’t noticed a thing. Derek hadn’t gotten a chance to pull out before the guy was coming and, god help him, he had been so close that the clenching around his cock sent him right over the edge. The fact that he was able to finish after Stiles walked in on him made him feel infinitely more disgusted with himself. 

Derek pulled out and yanked off the condom before stumbling around for his clothes. He felt like the ground had been pulled out from under him. How the fuck could he have been so stupid? He had been so caught up in his own self-loathing, commitment fearing bullshit that he honestly hadn’t thought once about how Stiles would feel. He had never realized how insanely self-centered he was until that moment, but he supposed it came from having no one to worry about but himself for so long. 

“Are you ok?” The guy asked, watching as Derek frantically yanked up his jeans. 

“Get your shit and get the fuck out of here.” Derek growled.

“Hey fucker, you drove me here!” The guy yelled as Derek was about to run after Stiles. 

“You got a phone?” Derek asked, turning to pause for a second. The guy nodded. “Then fucking call a cab.” He added, turning back to shove a twenty at the guy. He knew he was being an incredible asshole, but this was a guy who was dumb enough to let a stranger take him to some abandoned warehouse to fuck him. Besides, he was more worried about getting to Stiles than dealing with this guy’s shit. 

“Fuck you, asshole!” the guy snapped at him, but Derek had already stopped listening. He ran out of the depot, convinced that he’d taken too long and Stiles would be long gone. Instead he made it outside just in time to see Peter grab Stiles’s keys and take off with Stiles in the passenger seat. 

“Fuck fuck fuck.” Derek cursed, scrambling to fish his cellphone out of his pocket. He shot out a quick text to Stiles before heading for the Camaro. 

**To: Stiles**  
 _What are u doing with peter? Go to yr house. Be there in 5 mins, need to talk._

He hoped Stiles might actually listen and give him a chance to talk. The fact that he had been with Peter made Derek all the more nervous. He trusted Peter enough to let him back in the pack, but not enough that he wasn’t uncomfortable knowing Stiles was with him. 

The sheriff was out when Derek got to Stiles’s house and there was no sign of the Jeep either. Derek went and sat down on the front step and waited and tried to calm himself down. With every minute that passed he considered taking off to look for Stiles. Finally, he gave in and went to check every place he could think of. He hit up the lacrosse field, Scott’s house, the sheriff’s department, even Lydia’s house, but there was no sign of Stiles. 

Derek finally gave up searching and went back to wait on the front step of Stiles’s house again. He didn’t like not being able to find Stiles, especially when he was with Peter. He decided that he would give Stiles a couple more hours to make it home before he started worrying and got his betas to help him look. He didn’t want to bring anyone else into this, but making sure Stiles was okay was more important than his pride. He was determined to at least not be _that_ selfish. 

When Stiles finally came back home, Derek could smell what happened before the boy even opened his door. He took in the chain of hickeys trailing down Stiles’s neck and the way his hair was sticking out in every direction. He knew that smell… fucking Peter. Stiles smelled like sex and Peter. 

Derek’s vision went red. The resulting argument felt like a blur of white hot rage. His mind was a steady loop of _leaveleaveleave_ because he felt like he could barely control himself. Some part of him knew damn well he had no right to be angry, but everything in him was roaring for him to kill and maim and claim Stiles back for himself. Especially when Stiles rubbed it in his face, told him how much he _enjoyed_ fucking Peter, how Derek should take lessons from him. 

The fact that Derek managed to get away without destroying anything or hurting anyone was truly a testament to his anger management skills. He took off with a screech of tires and headed back towards the depot. His claws were still out, his hands gripping the steering wheel so hard it creaked. He had to find Peter. He had to find Peter and fucking _kill_ him. He didn’t care what Stiles had said. No, killing Peter wouldn’t fix anything nor would it make him feel better, but he _had_ to. He couldn’t think of anything else. 

The rest of the night was spent driving around Beacon Hills searching for Peter until he was exhausted and frustrated enough to stop. Not being able to find Peter ended up giving him enough time to cool down slightly. As much as Peter deserved it, Derek knew he couldn’t kill him. Peter was still family, despite everything, and Derek was pretty sure killing him once was enough. Killing him again would just serve to piss Stiles off further and Derek figured he’d done enough of that for a lifetime. Besides, he was just fucking tired at that point. 

Derek’s text alert went off and he opened it in a rush, some part of him desperately hoping it would be Stiles. Instead it was Scott. 

**From: Scott**  
 _Hey, got a question about werewolf healing._

Derek sighed and sent him back a couple question marks. He really wasn’t in the mood for Scott’s questions. 

**From: Scott**  
 _If you cut off a werewolf’s dick, will it grow back?_

Apparently Scott had found out. He didn’t send a reply, but Scott kept messaging, sending two replies in quick succession.

**From: Scott**  
 _I’m more than willing to experiment, as long as you’re the test subject._

**From: Scott**  
 _just wondering if I should tell Stiles first and let him help. What do u think?_

Scott thought Stiles didn’t know yet which meant Stiles hadn’t told him. Derek slammed his head against the steering wheel when he realized he’d completely forgotten about the pack being able to smell what he’d done at the depot. He didn’t bother trying to explain himself to Scott, he knew it wouldn’t matter. Before he could put his phone away, it beeped with another text. 

**From: Isaac**  
 _Hey might wanna stay away from the depot tonite, think scott will actually kill you_

**To: Isaac**  
 _I know._

**From: Isaac**  
 _need someone to talk to u know where to find me_

Derek let out a sigh. His throat felt like it might close up. He didn’t deserve anything but attempted murder and disdain and yet Isaac seemed like he actually wanted to comfort Derek. The truth was, he would have found it more comforting if Isaac had threatened him too. 

Derek drove to the only place he could think of. He went home. 

The house still smelled like smoke and death with the fading scent of the hunters that had set up camp there for a while. He went inside and found an old couch that still seemed relatively sturdy to sprawl out on. He tried to sleep, but as tired as he was, he couldn’t stop going over every single minute of the day in his head. 

He imagined a million different ways the day could have gone if he’d just left that grocery store alone. He could have headed back to the depot and when Stiles got there they could have talked about it, like fucking adults. Like normal fucking people. It might have sucked a little and it might have been complicated and awkward, but there was no way it could have felt this bad. 

Derek wondered if Stiles was asleep by then and he couldn’t help thinking that, if things were different, he could have been climbing through the boy’s window at that moment. He imagined pulling Stiles into his arms, warm from sleep and his hair ruffled, and kissing him until he moaned and pulled Derek into bed with him. He would have smelled like shower gel and deodorant and Derek. Not… not Peter and sadness and anger. 

Not for the first time, Derek found himself wishing he had a time machine. 

Derek eventually gave up on sleep when the sun started to rise and went for a run through the preserve instead. He was almost back to the house when he heard Stiles’s jeep. His heart started pounding like a bass drum. Stiles was the last person he expected to come looking for him; Scott and Allison maybe or even the sheriff and his gun, but not Stiles. 

Stiles called out for him and Derek didn’t bother hiding or running. The least he could do was let him get some kind of closure. God, he almost smelled normal again. He smelled like Derek again. When Derek realized that was because Stiles was wearing his shirt, his stomach dropped. He found himself mentally praying, actually praying, for that damn time machine. 

Any minute now. 

Derek’s luck had never been good and it certainly wasn’t magical miracle good. Stiles was still standing there looking as devastated as ever and smelling like everything Derek had ever wanted. Derek couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stay there anymore. 

He did his best to explain himself, but every word seemed flat and useless and even stupider than they had sounded in his head. He felt like he was digging a hole and throwing the dirt on top of himself. Every ounce of pain was written in bold letters across Stiles’s face, even as he tried to hide it. Derek had done that. He’d made him feel like that. 

Derek tried to somehow give Stiles some closure, but there wasn’t really anything he could say that would help. The damage was already done. There wasn’t anything left to do, but say goodbye. He couldn’t stay in Beacon Hills and spend his time pining after Stiles. He couldn’t stand seeing him around town and knowing he hated him, smelling him on his friends and in every place he went. He couldn’t stay and deal with his pack’s disappointment in him and their anger. 

Stiles didn’t seem too surprised to hear Derek was leaving, but then Derek had never really been more than a drifter in Beacon Hills anyway. The home he’d had there was long gone and nothing he did was going to make him fit in there again. 

Becoming the alpha hadn’t made him any more capable or any less damaged. Derek felt like everything he’d done since coming to Beacon Hills had been a mistake. He at least took solace in knowing that Kate Argent wasn’t alive anymore, but Peter was the one who got credit for that. He had killed Peter, but that didn’t even stick. All he had done was bitten a few kids and put them in constant danger. They’d be better off without him. Hell, Scott would probably do a better job of running things than Derek had; especially if he had Stiles helping him. 

Stiles… Stiles was walking away from him. Derek could smell his pain so strongly he felt like he could taste it on the back of his tongue. He tried to convince himself that Stiles would get over him in time. He’d forget the asshole that took his virginity and cheated on him. He’d move on and find someone else. God, the thought made Derek want to vomit, but then that was probably how Stiles had felt when he walked in on him. No, Stiles was definitely better off without him. 

Derek just wasn’t sure _he’d_ be better off without Stiles.

As Derek watched Stiles drive off, he tried to convince himself that he’d come back to Beacon Hills eventually, maybe after he had some time to clear his head and get his shit together, but he knew that even if he did, Stiles wouldn’t want anything to do with him. If he was being really honest with himself, he knew there was a chance he might never see Stiles again. For all he knew, Stiles would have moved away or at least gone off to college by the time he made his way back to Beacon Hills. 

Derek convinced himself it was for the best. Thankfully he’d been living out of his car since he’d first come back to Beacon Hills. Every possession he owned was in the trunk of the Camaro or in a storage unit near Chicago. That pretty much settled the question of where he’d go first. 

Maybe Derek would actually get an apartment and try living like a responsible adult again rather than a fucking vagrant. Maybe he’d get a job and start a hobby. Then maybe if he ever got to see Stiles again, he’d be someone worth seeing.


	3. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Peter's POV. Really, nothing here should surprise you. I mean... it's Peter. 
> 
> Fair warning, stuff gets kind of non-con in this chapter. Peter doesn't touch Stiles or do anything that Stiles is aware of, but I'd say his actions definitely warrant the warning. Please check the updated tags (the non-con element has a lot do with the somnophilia/voyeurism/stalking tags).

When Peter got his opportunity to finally have Stiles, it felt like Christmas had come early; albeit a kind of disturbing Christmas where enjoying your present might end up getting you killed or taken to jail. The analogy had lost steam pretty quickly, but to be fair Peter had been enjoying a lapful of angry horny teenager while he was trying to sort it all out. He was aware that he was a little unhinged and his judgment had been less than sound lately, but damn if he didn’t have a particular weakness when it came to the boy. It was understandable if he acted before he’d entirely thought out the possible repercussions.

Peter tended toward obsession, even before the fire. His obsessions had been a lot more socially acceptable back then, but when he was interested in something he tended to go all out. For instance, when he’d taken an interest in cooking he’d started taking cooking classes, worked his way through every Hale family recipe, and learned the ins and outs of the farmer’s market and the value of going to an actual butcher shop rather than the grocery store. Now his obsession was a teenage boy, both fragile and fierce in equal measure. He’d come a long way from trying to make the perfect soufflé. Peter never pretended to be the man he used to be, though. He could imagine that man’s distaste and repulsion at what Peter had become, but spending years trapped inside his own rage and pain filled mind had warped Peter beyond the point of worrying about things like morality, much less propriety and legality. 

As far as Peter was concerned, Stiles had been as good as his since the night Peter bit Lydia. He’d had the boy on his knees in front of him, lit up by the glaring lights of the lacrosse field and Peter remembered looking down into Stiles’s tear-filled brown eyes, seeing all that hate and fear laid out for him, and wanting to tear him apart. He wasn’t sure if he’d meant it literally or figuratively at the time, but their brief little interaction in the parking garage had cleared that up for him. Sometimes when he jerked off he’d still remember Stiles’s wrist a hair’s breadth away from his teeth right before he came. 

Peter never stopped regretting letting Stiles leave without the bite, but at the time he’d thought he’d have plenty of time to change the boy’s mind and make him his. Now his clueless nephew had taken up the mantle of Alpha and, despite claiming Stiles as his mate for all intents and purposes, Stiles still remained human. Peter sometimes thought that maybe his nephew was smarter than he gave him credit for and had actually realized the importance of having humans in a pack, but it seemed more likely that Derek’s cowardice and no doubt crippling fear of commitment were keeping him from offering his mate the bite. There was a strong chance that had Derek been the one offering, Stiles might have accepted. Instead, Derek let his fears and issues get the best of him and in doing so he had offered Stiles up on a silver platter without ever even realizing it. 

Ever since Peter had been resurrected, he’d been living like a ghost (the irony of that was not lost on him). His family home was kindling, the people responsible for the fire were dead and gone, and he was no longer the Alpha. He’d come out of the ground with no goal left but survival so he went to Derek with his tail between his legs and asked for a place in the pack. He wasn’t going to end up an omega if he could help it and he did find some purpose in giving Derek guidance. 

Peter was constantly surprised to see just how thick headed his nephew truly was. He was smart and strong, but so limited. He didn’t trust anyone and he walked around with his issues on display like a raw exposed nerve. He still tried to see the world as very black and white despite the fact that they’d been living in a gray area ever since their family burned to ashes. Peter knew his short stint as Alpha had left a lot to be desired (yes, he knew that was an understatement), but with Derek as Alpha he could see the forest for the trees, so to speak. So he eased his way back into Derek’s pack and took up the role of the despised advisor. He put up with the combined derision and wariness of Derek’s other betas with what he thought was quite a lot of grace and then he’d go to sleep and dream of ripping their throats out (those being comparatively tame dreams for him, truth be told).

Peter was simply biding his time. He had become exceptionally good at waiting. After all, he’d learned to be patient the hard way. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, but he knew an opportunity would present itself. The world would shift and make room for Peter again, eventually. In the meantime, Peter found himself drawn to Stiles. Death had done little to alter his fixation on the boy. Peter would see Lydia at pack meetings from time to time and he’d watch the way she’d shiver and distance herself from him. He couldn’t help being amused. She’d served her purpose and done it well. As far as Peter was concerned, she didn’t have anything to be worried about. Stiles, on the other hand, should have been worried. 

No one realized that Peter spent his nights outside Stiles’s window; not Lydia’s. They didn’t know that Peter would wait until Stiles was all alone to watch him through his bedroom window, wanting so badly to go inside. For all Stiles’s investigative and observational powers, he never once noticed. To be fair, Derek hadn’t either. Peter was honestly a little ashamed at how easy it was to cover his scent from Derek, but Derek had never gotten much of a chance to learn about those things. Peter knew that covering your scent and learning to detect a scent that someone has hidden were things that Derek needed to learn, but it was hard to convince himself to bring it up when doing so would effectively end his favorite pastime. Instead, he kept a safe distance on the nights when Derek would crawl through Stiles’s window… just not such a distance that he couldn’t hear every sweet little moan that came from the boy’s mouth.

\--

On the day his opportunity finally arrived, Peter had followed Stiles to the depot. As pathetic as it was, he knew Derek and Stiles were going to be alone together and he knew what that meant. He couldn’t resist staying close when he knew that Stiles would be naked and sweaty and slick and moaning like a whore. Some greedy, possessive part of him always raged at knowing Derek was taking what should have belonged to him, but the other part of him just really wanted to hear Stiles come. 

The moment they got to the depot, Peter’s heart started racing. Apparently he was in for a very different kind of show this time. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion. He could smell and hear what Derek was doing and the tiny little shred of decency left in him said he should keep Stiles away and not let him see that, but when the universe was gifting you a horse you didn’t look it in the mouth. Instead he stayed quiet and let Stiles get his heart broken and when he came out of the depot a shaking distraught mess, Peter was there waiting for him. He knew he should have felt guilty when he saw the broken look on Stiles’s face, but instead he felt… victorious. 

Stiles had been the perfect prey, too. He fell into Peter’s waiting arms so beautifully, just like Peter had always known he would. He was everything Peter had hoped he would be; pretty face, dirty mouth, and a tight hole. He’d never heard Stiles talk like that with Derek, and God knows he was listening. He wanted everything from Stiles, everything Derek had been too afraid to take. Derek had underestimated Stiles and taken him for granted, but Peter wouldn’t make that mistake. He knew what Stiles could take and he suspected they had barely scratched the surface at the motel. Stiles was his now, the hook was already in him. He just needed to carefully reel him in. 

After their tryst at the motel, Peter had to think quickly. Derek wouldn’t be happy and his first instinct upon smelling Peter all over his mate (despite the fact that he refused to properly acknowledge Stiles as such) would be to kill him. As much as Peter wanted to keep Stiles’s scent on him as long as he could, he’d have to camouflage his scent from Derek. Peter knew Derek was likely to be distracted by Stiles at first, but it wouldn’t last long. Peter just needed to get out of range of the raging alpha and take time to regroup and work out a plan. He set himself up in a motel a county over and waited to see how things would unfold. 

In the meantime, he needed to stay in contact with Stiles. He knew Stiles was going to be vulnerable for a while and he wanted to be there for him. He wanted to be right on the edge of Stiles’s mind as a source of comfort and support without being judgmental. He wanted to make Stiles feel attractive and intelligent while Derek did his best to make Stiles feel worthless (intentionally or otherwise). Peter wanted to make sure that when Stiles was left alone and broken, he would be there waiting to pick up the pieces. 

Peter started with the texts. They were mostly harmless. He knew better than to lay the charm on too thick. Stiles knew him too well. He wouldn’t trust it if Peter was suddenly pretending to be something he wasn’t. So Peter was crass and funny and just transparent enough to be believable and Stiles… Stiles just kept responding. It actually seemed unfair that this should be so damn easy for Peter when he’d done absolutely nothing in his life to deserve it (quite the contrary), but his luck just kept on coming. So much for karma being a bitch.

Peter texted Stiles again the next day, part of his continuing efforts to remain firmly in Stiles’s periphery. 

**To: Stiles**  
 _Lovely weather in Tijuana today. How are things in Beacon Hills?_

He kept waiting for Stiles to stop replying or to tell him that he’d forgiven Derek and that the previous day’s events were nothing but a bump in the road for them. Instead Stiles’s reply couldn’t have been more perfect.

**From: Stiles**  
 _Dereks leaving BH. Guess that means you can come out of hiding now._  
 **From: Stiles**  
 _Unless youre just that attached to the Tijuana weather._

**To: Stiles**  
 _Ah, but there’s so much more to life than good weather and donkey shows._

Peter thought for a moment. Derek was actually leaving and Stiles was acting flippant about it. He knew Stiles well enough to see his sarcasm for what it really was. He was hurt… vulnerable. 

**To:Stiles**  
 _You know I’ll be there if you need me._

**From: Stiles**  
 _I don’t need you_

**To: Stiles**  
 _I know. Do you want me, though?_

There was a long pause. A long enough pause that Peter thought maybe he was pushing too hard too early. He had put his cellphone back in his pocket and decided to try again the next day when the text alert finally went off.

 **From: Stiles**  
 _Im not trying to fuck you again peter._

To anyone else that might have sounded like a pretty clear rejection, but the fact that it had taken Stiles that long to come up with that response gave Peter hope. It sounded like Stiles had written that text more for his sake than Peter’s.

**To: Stiles**  
 _So don’t. I do have other uses, you know. For instance, I’m an excellent listener and very skilled at purchasing curly fries. Some might call it a gift._

Peter wondered if it was too telling that he knew Stiles’s favorite food. He knew plenty of things about Stiles, though. Even if he hadn’t been keeping such a close eye on him, he would have learned plenty just from interacting with the pack. After another long pause Stiles replied again. 

**From: Stiles**  
 _Maybe another time_

**To: Stiles**  
 _I can deal with maybe._

Peter grinned broad and felt his canines lengthen. He would definitely take a ‘maybe’. Stiles didn’t sugarcoat things, especially not with Peter. If it were a solid ‘no’ he would have said so. Explicitly. He might have even included a few colorful swears or maybe even a threat. A ‘maybe’ from him was as good as an ‘eventually’. 

Peter decided to celebrate the only way he knew how. After all, Stiles didn’t have to see Peter for Peter to see Stiles. With no Derek lurking around anymore, Peter’s favorite past time had just become that much easier. He sat outside Stiles’s window, concealed in the dark, and listened to him crying quietly. Peter didn’t let himself feel too guilty. It was all part of the process. Derek had been the one to upset Stiles, all Peter wanted to do was help him forget. He told himself he only had Stiles’s best interests at heart. It made him feel a lot better about what he did next. 

The sheriff was already asleep in preparation for a painfully early start the next day (Peter may have been passing familiar with the sheriff’s schedule) so all Peter had to do was wait. He waited until Stiles quietly sobbed himself to exhaustion and climbed into bed. He waited until his heart rate slowed and his breathing grew steady. He tried the window and found that it was still unlocked and damn if that didn’t tug at Peter’s heartstrings just a little. Stiles didn’t need to leave a window unlocked for Derek anymore, but he was more than welcome to leave it open for Peter.

Peter crawled through the window quietly and tucked himself into the shadows of Stiles’s room. The smell of Stiles was rich enough here that it almost flavored the air. Peter took a deep inhale and unzipped his pants, slowly and quietly. He could see Stiles in perfect clarity, even in the dim lighting trickling in through the window. He had stripped off his jeans and fallen asleep in the t-shirt and boxer-briefs he’d worn that day, but his blanket was covering most of him from sight. Maybe Peter was a little overconfident from his recent victories, but he was feeling a little reckless. He stepped towards the bed and gently tugged at the edge of the blanket. The blanket slid down past Stiles’s thighs and the boy shifted in bed. Peter paused and held his breath, but Stiles didn’t wake up. 

Stiles was sleeping on his stomach with one knee hiked up on the bed and both arms wrapped around his pillow. He looked so perfectly innocent with his cheeks still damp from tears and his mouth hanging open, always fucking open. Peter wanted to touch him so badly. He wanted to touch the smooth sleep-warm expanse of his back where his shirt had ridden up. He wanted to slot himself between the boy’s thighs and press against him and slip his fingers in that warm wet mouth. Instead he reached into his own jeans, took himself in hand, and imagined; content in the knowledge that, soon, he wouldn’t have to imagine anymore. Soon enough Stiles would intentionally leave the window open for him and he could crawl inside and take and touch and the boy would greet him with a sleepy smile and a smartass comment. 

Peter left as quietly as he came, smug and sated and leaving Stiles’s room smelling like him. It was a small victory, for the moment, but Peter could be patient. He wasn’t going to let Derek’s mistakes be for nothing. After all, it was the least he could do to make sure Stiles was taken care of now that his Alpha was gone and Peter intended to keep a _very_ close eye on him.


	4. Stiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the pack finds out about Stiles and Peter and Stiles has a really bad day.

Stiles dreamt that Derek came in through his window last night. Just that he came in through the window and watched him lying there. No sex. No one talked. He just came in and stood there and it was so damn real that Stiles couldn’t help it when his heart dropped the next morning as he realized it wasn’t. Stiles dropped his head back on his pillow and contemplated staying in bed all day. In the end, hunger won out and he dragged himself downstairs to find something for breakfast. 

The sheriff had already left for work before Stiles woke up. Stiles felt like he hadn’t seen his dad in days so he decided he would make it up to him by making him dinner. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere else. He still wasn’t quite ready to face the rest of the pack, not if he could help it. He figured he’d earned a couple days of moping and self-pity before he faced the world. 

After a breakfast of frozen waffles and mountain dew (because he also decided those couple days of moping included making really poor dietary decisions) Stiles went upstairs to find three texts waiting for him. 

**From: Zombiewolf**  
 _Morning sunshine._

**From: Scott**  
 _hey you want to do something today?_

**From: Scott**  
 _screw it, coming by to make sure you’re okay either way_

Well fuck. So much for avoiding people and moping. He should have known Scott wasn’t going to leave well enough alone. It was essentially in his job description as best friend. Stiles plopped down on the bed to text him back. 

**To: Scott**   
_ten four good buddy_   


Stiles had a little inner-argument with himself before deciding to text Peter back too. He knew he was treading on dangerous territory with Peter, but he was having more and more trouble giving a shit. For all his many and varied faults, Peter had stayed and comforted Stiles (in his own creeper way) while Derek just ran away. He figured he could at least respond to his texts. 

**To: Zombiewolf**  
 _you do not get to use pet names with me dude. like ever._

Sure enough Peter texted back immediately. Stiles honestly began to wonder if Peter had anything else to do other than bother him all day. 

**From: Zombiewolf**  
 _Why not? You do it._

**To: Zombiewolf**  
 _bullshit_

Stiles looked at his phone for a minute and decided to change Peter’s name in his contacts.

**From: Peter**  
 _I’ve decided to consider ‘dude’, ‘asshole’, and ‘creeper’ terms of endearment._

**To: Peter**  
 _whatever you need to tell yourself_

**From: Peter**   
_: )_   


Wow, Peter using emoticons was somehow highly disturbing. Stiles decided to make a point of not calling Peter by anything other than his name. He didn’t want to encourage Peter any more than he already had. 

Stiles got up and threw on some clothes before Scott came over. By the time he was done brushing his teeth Scott was already standing in front of the window. He had a startled and slightly angry look on his face and his eyes were scanning the room warily. 

“Dude, what’s wrong?” Stiles said, looking around the room to try and figure out what was getting Scott so worked up. 

“Your room smells like Peter, Stiles. Like Peter… and sex. Did he- What the hell did he do, Stiles?!” Scott said, his eyes flashing yellow. 

_Shitshitshit_. Stiles had apparently underestimated werewolf smelling powers. He had been sure there wasn’t a single trace of Peter left on his clothes or body, but he must have fucked up somewhere along the way. He had no clue how, but he _must_ have missed something. Now he had to figure out what to say to Scott. If he didn’t explain, Scott was just going to assume the worst and Stiles wasn’t going to let Scott believe Peter was some kind of rapist or something just because he was ashamed of what had happened.

“Ok. Umm… Look, just quit flashing the scary eyes and sit. I can explain.” 

“Explain? Explain what?” Scott said, clearly not listening to Stiles’ request that he quit with the wolfing out. 

“Just fucking chill, okay? I… I was really fucking upset, alright? I mean I wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders and mistakes were made.” 

“Wait, what? What are you saying?” 

“I had sex with Peter. It was after I found Derek... doing what he was doing.” Stiles said, cringing through his confession. 

“What?! What the fuck, dude? That’s… that’s really fucked up! I mean, he’s Derek’s uncle and he’s like… fifty for fuck’s sake!” Scott said. The yellow eyes were gone, but he still looked pretty fucking pissed. 

“He’s not that old and yeah, I know all of this. Like I said, mistakes were made. I just want to forget it happened, okay? I kind of want to forget everything about the last few days.” Stiles said, collapsing wearily on his bed. 

“I don’t know what the hell to say to this right now, man. I mean, I get that you were upset, but… wow.” 

“Look, I get that it’s fucked up, but it’s not like I killed a puppy or slapped an old lady or something, okay? Fucking a shitty person doesn’t make me a shitty person. Just makes me a stupid one.” Stiles said. 

“I guess. Just… You’re not gonna keep doing it though, right? I mean, that was a one-time situation?” 

“Christ! Yeah. One time situation. I’m not _that_ stupid.” Stiles said, exasperated. He couldn’t see himself actually having pre-meditated sex with Peter. He did however reserve the right to jerk off to the one time he did have sex with him, because… yeah. Stiles had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to prevent it from coming up, at least not for a while. It was pretty memorable, to say the least. 

After their talk Scott chilled out considerably, but he was apparently still too grossed out to hang out in Stiles’ room so they ended up in the living room watching some random episodes of Ridiculousness that Stiles had recorded. After a while Stiles made them grilled mac and cheese sandwiches for lunch because his unhealthy eating decision also included an excessive amount of cheese based foods. Scott didn’t complain because he understood that cheese was Stiles’ go-to food anytime he decided to eat his emotions. One time on his mother’s birthday Scott had to forcibly prevent him from eating an entire brick of Velveeta. In hindsight, that was a pretty disgusting idea, but the mac and cheese sandwiches were genius.

Neither Peter nor Derek was brought up again until Scott eventually left to go see how the rest of the pack was doing without their Alpha. He invited Stiles to come along, but Stiles declined and said he’d come the next time. Whether or not he actually planned on going the next time was up for debate. With Scott gone and little else to do Stiles decided to clean up and start making something for dinner. 

Stiles’ dad came home looking exhausted, as usual, but he seemed happy Stiles nonetheless. 

“Hey kid. I’m surprised to see you home. You’ve been out of the house more than you’ve been in it lately.” the sheriff said pulling him into a one armed hug as he put his gun away. Stiles couldn’t help feeling a little guilty. He’d gotten so wrapped up in things with Derek and the pack that he’d kind of been ignoring his dad. 

“Yeah well, what can I say? I needed some Dad time.” Stiles said, grabbing a couple plates. 

“So now that I’ve got you here for a minute, how has everything been with you?” The sheriff said as he took his jacket off and sat down at the table. 

“Um, pretty good I guess. Same as usual.” 

“Stiles, there is no such thing as ‘usual’ with you. You look kinda down.” His dad said, looking concerned. Stiles had thought he was being convincing, but his dad was sheriff for a reason, after all. 

“Just kinda had a falling out with one of my friends.” Stiles said. He supposed it was technically the truth. He’d never talked to the sheriff about Derek and it seemed pointless to explain their relationship now that it was over and Derek was gone. 

“Hmm, well I’m sure you guys will work it out.” His dad said. His worries were eased enough that his focus had already shifted to his dinner. He ate like a starving man and Stiles wondered if his dad had been too busy to stop for lunch again. 

After dinner the sheriff decided to head to bed early and Stiles did the same. He lay in his bed for about half an hour before he realized that wasn’t going to work. Sitting in his room at night had him thinking about his dream and he couldn’t help looking toward the window every five minutes hoping to see Derek. He didn’t understand how he could be so angry at him and yet miss him so much. It was infuriating. 

Stiles grabbed his pillow and blanket and ended up falling asleep on the couch with cartoon network playing in the background. When he woke up the television had been shut off. He sighed and realized he’d have to make up a reason for his dad as to why he was sleeping on the couch. Even if his dad had known about Derek, he certainly wouldn’t have told him about Derek’s late night trips through the window and his pathetic inability to look at the window without his heart dropping out of his chest.

Stiles realized that he hadn’t looked at his phone since Scott left the night before. He’d been trying to avoid it because otherwise he would have been obsessively checking it waiting for a text or a call that would never come. He refused to be that pathetic, so he just left his phone on the charger in his room and ignored its existence. When he went back upstairs to grab it, he realized he had apparently missed quite a bit, including two missed calls from Scott, a voicemail, and a text. 

**From: Scott**  
 _dude im really sorry but I may have confronted Peter about you and Isaac and Jackson overheard us. i swear it was an accident._

Stiles gritted his teeth and went to check his voicemail before he called Scott to rip him a new one. 

_’Hey, um… the guys definitely heard and now Lydia and Boyd know too. I’m really sorry, but maybe you should wait to come back over for a while? Just until everybody chills out? You know how they are about Derek and Lydia’s issues with Peter. They’ll get over it though. Just call me back, ok? I’m really sorry.’_

Stiles had to restrain himself from smashing his phone against the wall. How the fuck was any of this fair? Derek had cheated on him and abandoned his pack and somehow Stiles was still the bad guy just because he fucked Peter? No, there was no way he was letting this slide. Stiles was going to go over there whether they liked it or not. If they were going to sit there and judge him then they should at least have to hear his side of things. Admittedly Stiles was occasionally overly confrontation when he was pissed off, but he felt it was warranted in this case. 

Stiles ate his breakfast and sat on the internet until he figured everyone would be meeting up at the train depot. That was assuming they were still hanging out there now that Derek had left. He spent the entire drive there working out a big speech in his mind, but the moment he got there and saw them all glaring at him in awkward silence, he had entirely forgotten everything he planned on saying. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you people?!” Stiles said, swinging his arms out. 

“Us? What the fuck is wrong with you, Stiles?” Lydia snapped from where she was sitting next to Jackson with his arms folded across her chest. Scott cringed. 

“You want a fucking list? How about I walked in on my boyfriend cheating on me? How about him fucking taking off like a coward? He left you guys too. I don’t fucking understand how you’re not pissed at him!” Stiles shouted. 

“Look, it’s not that we’re not pissed at him, but do you really think he would have left if you hadn’t…. whatevered with Peter?” Isaac said. Stiles gaped at him. 

“So it’s my fault Derek left? You know he did it on purpose right? Just because he didn’t want to be with me anymore. So yeah, I was really upset and I reacted badly, but that doesn’t excuse everything Derek did. You don’t think he should take responsibility for any of this?” Stiles said. Isaac just looked away. 

“Look, I think you should just go home for now. Everybody’s upset, ok? Just let it go for now.” Scott said. Stiles couldn’t help feeling betrayed. 

“No one here has any fucking right to be upset with me. Who I fuck isn’t anyone’s business. As far as I’m concerned I was single the moment Derek stuck his dick in some other guy. You want to be pissed because Derek left? Fine, but I’m not going to be your fucking scapegoat.” Stiles said. No one said anything. They just looked away and Scott opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish. 

“Really fucking fantastic friends, you guys are.” Stiles said and turned to walk out the door. 

Stiles was so angry he couldn’t see straight. He was surprised he managed to get to his house without crashing the jeep. Derek got to just run away while Stiles was stuck here taking the blame for both of them. Apparently it was all his fault from the get-go. Hell, maybe he was the reason Derek cheated in the first place, like he somehow drove him into the arms of another man. 

Stiles pulled into the driveway but didn’t get out of the Jeep. He just sat there for a while catching his breath and trying to refrain from punching his steering wheel. He’d thought that Scott would at least defend him, but instead he was giving Stiles the “give them time” speech, like Stiles was just being unreasonable. Fuck that with an entire mountain of dicks. 

Part of Stiles was tempted to call Derek and insist he come back and face the consequences of his actions like a man… wolf. Man-wolf. Then again, it would be a lot worse if Derek actually did come back to face the pack and they decided that Stiles was somehow still the bad guy. Then he’d be just as alone as ever. At least this way he knew Derek was alone too, petty as that was. 

He would _not_ let himself feel guilty about this. They had no fucking right to make him feel guilty. He’d done nothing wrong. Stiles was beginning to resent the fact that he had to keep telling himself that in order to believe it. He finally gave in and punched the steering wheel and immediately regretted it. Now he was pissed off _and_ his knuckles hurt. 

“Fuck it.” Stiles said to himself and grabbed his phone from his pocket. He’d failed to notice the messages he’d missed while he was busy inwardly raging at the world. 

**From: Scott**  
 _im really sorry! I know this seems fucked up, but they’re just reacting badly to Derek leaving. Please just try and understand._

Scott was trying to be mediator again, but all he was doing was making Stiles angrier. 

**To: Scott**  
 _sure, I’ll try and understand them reacting poorly to a fucked up situation. you know, because they would do the same for me, right?_

Stiles sent his reply to Scott and checked the other text which was from Peter. Apparently Peter and Scott were the only people that texted him these days. 

**From: Peter**  
 _So it seems everyone’s found out about us. Apparently I’m not welcome around the pack anymore._

Wow. Apparently Stiles was now on Peter’s level as far as the pack was concerned. They were… they were fucking shunning them both. Stiles just sat there staring at his phone in disbelief before replying to Peter. 

**To: Peter**  
 _is your previous offer of curly fries still on the table?_

**From: Peter**  
 _Of course. : )_

If they wanted to lump Peter and Stiles together, then fine. Fuck it. He wasn’t going to spend the rest of his summer with no one to talk to. The untouchables had to stick together, he supposed. 

**To: Peter**  
 _come pick me up._


	5. Derek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek fails at most things. Including running away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I thought I should add a couple little notes here real quick. This is set in the nebulous future (After season 2 for sure, but I really didn't want to deal with the Alpha pack lol). 
> 
> Stiles is 17, Derek is 20 (because I've always taken the "only a few years older than us" thing very literally), and Peter is 37. 
> 
> Erica is away somewheres and her place in the pack is shifty at the moment and Allison is around, but things are still weird between her and the rest of the pack. She still talks to Scott and Lydia though and she might show up in later chapters. 
> 
> Scott and Allison aren't a thing, but it's pretty heavily hinted that Scott and Isaac are. :)

Derek never got as far as Chicago. Driven by anger alone, he managed to drive fifteen hours before he nearly drove the Camaro right over a bridge, sustaining himself on fast food and energy drinks and desperate to get as much distance between himself and Beacon Hills as he could. He finally broke down and got a hotel and passed out, sleeping well past checkout time. After waking up and eating a greasy breakfast at Denny’s, he came to the conclusion that running away was a lot harder than he’d expected. 

Derek hadn’t accounted for his own instincts fighting against him. He felt the pull of his pack itching at the back of his mind and growing more intense the farther away he got. Derek hadn’t spent much time as an Alpha. He’d never tried to leave them before and he had no idea it would be this hard. Everything in him was telling him to get back to his pack. He’d left them unprotected. Worse than that, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Peter had challenged his place in the pack and that by leaving he was admitting defeat. 

Derek had barely let himself think of ‘Stiles’ and ‘boyfriend’ in the same sentence. After everything that had happened, he finally had to accept that, yes, that was exactly what he was, but he hadn’t really thought about what that meant. If Stiles was indeed his boyfriend… his mate, then what Peter had done couldn’t be considered anything but a challenge and Peter knew it. Derek trusted the pack to stay clear of Peter. He knew they’d never accept Peter as pack leader, but that didn’t make it an easier to ignore the challenge. 

Not for the first time, Derek resented being the Alpha. He knew that if he didn’t want the responsibility he shouldn’t have bitten any of them, but that didn’t make him hate it any less. He’d tied himself to them in a way that couldn’t be shaken off with distance. If he felt this anxious and on edge from being away from them, then they couldn’t have been doing much better. He had thought that leaving would make things better for everyone, but instead he was hurting people even more. 

Coming back, though, would mean addressing Peter’s challenge and he hated that most of all. Peter had him cornered. He knew that Derek didn’t want to fight him, but he was giving him no choice. He would have to force his uncle to submit or exile him from the pack. That wasn’t the hard part. The hard part was what happened when Peter refused to submit or back down. Peter was unstable and unpredictable. There was always the chance that Derek would have no choice but to kill him… again. As much as he despised Peter, he was still family. Derek didn’t want to kill him. He didn’t want to kill anyone, but he was learning that an Alpha had to do a lot of things they didn’t want to do. 

Derek had left with all the best intentions. He’d thought he could run away and come back a better person. He thought that if he could run fast enough and far enough he could leave his shitty past and fucked up issues behind, but it if it hadn’t worked in the past why would it work now? The road to hell was paved with good intentions and the road Derek was on would always lead back to Beacon Hills. 

Derek knew that his plan to run away was no longer an option. He’d have to go back and going back meant going to where Stiles was. Derek didn’t really know what to do with that. There was a tiny part of him that was ecstatic just to be near him again. That same part of him held out hope that he could get Stiles back. The less naïve part of him thought that even if there was a chance, he shouldn’t take it. All he had to offer Stiles was heartache and pain. Even if he convinced Stiles to give him another chance, they could never go back to normal. Everything they had was tainted now. 

Derek tamped down on his rage and contained himself before he started flashing fangs and red eyes for everyone at the restaurant to see. Maybe killing Peter wouldn’t be as hard as he thought. Hell, maybe killing Peter would be easier the second time around. If he knew that Peter’s blood would be enough to wash the slate clean between him and Stiles, he’d kill him again in an instant, but wishing didn’t make it so. Might be worth a try though. He supposed he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. 

Derek cracked his neck and paid for his meal. He started his trip back towards Beacon Hills and managed to get about eight hours out before he decided to spend another night at a motel. He told himself it was just make sure he didn’t go crazy from sleep deprivation like he almost did the night before, but the truth was that he was stalling. He actually woke up the next morning and drove another three hours back towards Chicago before manning up again and turning back. By then he was a good ten hours away. 

Running away wasn’t easy, but apparently running back was a lot harder. 

Derek didn’t get in to Beacon Hills until nine pm and the closer he got, the more he began to realize that taking his time may have been a mistake. He could feel the pack as he got closer to them, a swirling miasma of anger, sadness, and a little fear. He wondered how much damage his two days away from the pack had done. He secretly hoped the troubled emotions they were giving off didn’t have anything to do with him, but he highly doubted it. 

When Derek finally pulled up to the depot, the only people there were Scott and Isaac. Jackson, Lydia, and Boyd were likely at home and Erica was still gone for the summer with her parents. As to whether or not she was coming back, they weren’t really sure. Stiles… he would have to find out about Stiles later, after he’d settled down his pack. 

Neither Scott nor Isaac was surprised to see Derek back. Isaac had probably sensed him coming closer for some time. No doubt the rest of pack had too, but he wasn’t exactly expecting a big welcome home party. They had a right to be pissed. He’d probably have to give them some time before he started working on his apologies. 

Derek really fucking hated apologies. 

“You’re back.” Isaac said. Derek nodded and stood there for a minute as Isaac looked him over. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until Isaac stepped forward and lightly rested a hand on his shoulder. He let out his breath. Isaac was always the first to forgive Derek. Even if that small touch wasn’t complete absolution, it was a step forward. The others wouldn’t be so easy. 

“You really fucked up, Derek. You… you have no idea how fucked up things have gotten while you were gone.” Scott said, he was speaking calmly, but Derek could feel the heat of his anger simmering just below the surface. It actually made him more nervous that Scott wasn’t lashing out at him, like usual. 

“What happened?” Derek asked. 

“Well for starters, everyone found out about Peter and Stiles and well... They… they basically told him it was his fault you left.” Scott said. Isaac wouldn’t meet Derek’s eyes anymore. 

“Please tell me you’re joking.” Derek said, scrubbing his hands over his eyes. That… that wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Derek had assumed Stiles would end up helping Scott take care of the pack. Hell, that was part of the reason he felt even remotely comfortable leaving them alone. Stiles was far more essential to the pack’s wellbeing than Derek, as far as Derek was concerned. He was the brains of the operation, as much as Derek would have never admitted that to Stiles himself. He figured they’d be just as angry as Stiles was; that they would comfort him, not blame him for Derek’s mistakes. 

“No… Stiles was exactly as upset as you’d think. I told him to give everyone some space and he bit my head off. He thinks we’re all against him, me included, and that he’s not welcome around the pack anymore.” Scott said, his eyes narrowed at Derek. Isaac was still studying the floor like he was going to be tested on it later. 

“You know that’s bullshit.” Derek said, directing his words to Isaac now. Isaac looked up at him from under his curls, but Derek wasn’t having any of the puppy dog look shit. As far as he was concerned, he was the only one who had any right to be pissed off about what Stiles did with Peter. It was bad enough to feel guilty for what he’d done to Stiles, now he got to feel guilty about what his pack was doing to Stiles too. 

“I know. We shouldn’t have pushed him away and I know it’s not really his fault you left, but I do think we have a right to be upset with him. You have to know that if the shoe were on the other foot… I mean, the only person that hated Peter more than Lydia was Stiles. It’s just kind of hard to wrap our heads around it, man.” Isaac said, sheepishly. Derek tried to think of the best way to explain it to Isaac and he found himself getting more and more frustrated.

“He’s just… If you saw the way he looked at me- I don’t think he was in his right mind. He’s probably still not. Fuck, I know I’m not. You guys were supposed to be there for him.” Derek said. 

“We weren’t exactly in our right minds either, Derek. You left us too, you know? You’re supposed to be our Alpha, but you left us. Now you come back here and try to judge us for _our_ actions? Where the fuck were you?” Isaac said. Derek’s heart ached at seeing how upset his beta was. 

“I know. I fucked up, Isaac. I should have never left. I get that. But you guys are better than me with shit like this. I hurt people all the time. You don’t have to.” Derek said. 

“You don’t have to either.” Scott said. Derek didn’t fail to notice the way Scott had angled himself in front of Isaac, his hand resting on the small of Isaac’s back. Scott was protective by his nature, but he was even worse when it came to Isaac. 

“I realize that Scott. Look, I came back for a reason. I’m going to take care of this, but that starts with you guys easing up on Stiles.” Derek said, directing his last statement to Isaac. Isaac nodded, but Derek knew he was still upset. He stepped toward Isaac, ignoring the glare Scott was throwing him, and put his hand on his beta’s shoulder.

“I really am sorry, Isaac. I’m not leaving again.” 

Isaac breathed out an almost inaudible sigh, but he looked up at Derek and when he nodded this time, Derek believed it. 

“Have you checked on Stiles? Is he okay?” Derek asked, turning to Scott. He tried to sound casually concerned, but he knew he came off just a little bit pathetic. 

“That’s the other problem. We can’t find him. He’s not at home and he’s not answering his phone; not for us anyway.” Scott said. Derek realized now why Scott bothered to be even remotely civil towards him (other than for Isaac’s sake). Scott had grown up a lot since Derek had met him and this was proof. There was something more important to worry about, so Scott wasn’t wasting time getting into it with Derek. You had to respect that. 

“He probably just went for a drive to blow off steam. Has anyone tried to track the jeep?” Derek asked.

“Thing is, the jeep is still at his house. I called the sheriff and told him we got into a fight and that Stiles wasn’t answering the phone. I told him I was hoping to find Stiles to apologize and he said Stiles went somewhere with a friend, but he didn’t tell him a name.” Scott said. 

“No one in the pack has seen him.” Isaac added. 

“Where’s Peter?” Derek growled. 

“We don’t know. After everything that happened… we told him not to come back around.” Isaac said, but Derek was half wolfed out and headed towards the door before Isaac had even finished his sentence. 

Family or not, Derek was going to kill him. It was far too convenient that anytime Stiles was emotionally compromised, Peter was there to whisper in his ear. He had no doubt that was exactly what Peter was doing right then. 

Derek wouldn’t let him slip away this time. Family or not, he wasn’t giving Peter anymore chances.


	6. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Stiles go out on what may or may not be a date, but they get interrupted and shit kinda hits the fan. 
> 
> Peter is having the best luck these days.

Things with Stiles were moving along a lot faster than Peter would have expected. He found it endlessly funny that he owed it all to Stiles’s supposed “pack”. God bless teenagers. 

Admittedly Peter was pretty torn about the situation. On the one hand, the pack abandoning Stiles was probably the only reason he’d decided to go out with Peter, but on the other hand Peter wanted to go find the little bastards and wring their necks. He supposed it made sense that he was feeling a little protective, now that Stiles was his. 

In fact, he was feeling confident enough that he wasn’t even worried about Derek coming back. Despite their best efforts, the pack didn’t actually have the ability to get rid of Peter, not truly. That would be up to their Alpha; the Alpha whose presence Peter could feel creeping ever nearer. 

Peter got in his car and drove to Stiles’s house. He steeled himself to be a perfect gentleman. Well, maybe not a _perfect_ gentleman, but he wasn’t going to push too hard. He’d already had a quick and dirty fuck with Stiles, he wanted more than that now. Stiles _belonged_ to him now. He just had to let Stiles come to that conclusion on his own; ease him into it. 

When he got to Stiles’s house, the boy was sitting on the front step with his head in his hands. Now that he could actually see how upset Stiles was, he felt that protective instinct to destroy the people that made him feel that way. Hell, Peter would enjoy it. He’d been looking for a reason. 

“Are you alright?” Peter asked when Stiles finally climbed in the car. Stiles snapped his head up and glared.

“No, not really. Are you planning to spend this entire time asking stupid questions? Because if that’s the case you might as well let me out right now.” Stiles said. Peter threw up his hands in surrender.

“We don’t have to talk about it. We can talk about whatever you want.” Peter said, calmly putting the car into gear.

“That…. Yeah.” Stiles said, his anger receding a little. Peter almost wished he wouldn’t. He looked so damn good when he was angry. His cheeks were flushed so prettily, almost the same way they’d flushed when Peter fucked him, and somehow his eyes looked all the brighter for the unshed tears in them. It was a still a little unnerving how it affected Peter, though. Were he a lot younger and a lot less in control he would have had trouble hiding his anger at the state he found Stiles in. Even still, he could feel his claws itching to come out. He both loved and hated the fact that Stiles had that power over him.

Peter let the silence linger as he drove towards the burger joint. He’d seen Stiles go there plenty of times before so he figured it was a safe bet for good curly fries. To think he had only been following Stiles for his own pleasure with no idea as to how useful it would end up being. 

“Can I be honest?” Stiles said as they pulled into the parking lot.

“You always are.” Peter responded.

“I half expected you to take me to another seedy motel.” Stiles said. 

“Did you want me to?” Peter asked, raising an eyebrow and leering at Stiles. 

“Nope.” Stiles said, popping the P sound and giving Peter a cheery ‘fuck you’ of a smile. Peter just shook his head and chuckled before getting out of the car. He paused and looked back at Stiles who was still sitting in the car, looking at Peter expectantly. 

“Well? Are you planning on sitting in the car all night?” Peter asked.

“Are _you_ planning on opening my door for me? I thought guys your age were supposed to be gentleman? What kind of date is this?” Stiles said, his arms folding across his chest. 

“Be careful, I might actually start to believe this is a date and I don’t think you could handle me on a real date.” Peter said, walking around to open Stiles’s door.

“Is that so?” 

“Yes. Much too charming. You might actually start to like me.” Peter said with a grin.

“No chance of that, trust me.” Stiles said with a roll of his whiskey brown eyes. Yet he still got out of the car and followed Peter into the restaurant. 

Much to Peter’s delight, Stiles made a point of ordering the most expensive meal he could manage (considering the overall cheapness of the restaurant) complete with an extra order of curly fries and a huge chocolate shake. Of course this was after he confirmed that Peter would, in fact, be paying. 

“How do you have money, anyway? Do you even have a job?” Stiles asked through a mouthful of fries.

“Well there’s my savings, my wife’s life insurance…” At that Stiles cringed a little.

“I didn’t mean to bring that up. I… didn’t know you had a wife.” Stiles said, stubbornly making a point of never actually saying sorry.

“Yes, I did. I actually used to have a life, believe it or not.” Peter said. He didn’t go into detail, didn’t even let his mind linger on the things he’d lost. He hoped Stiles wouldn’t do the math and realize how unlikely it would be for his wife to have life insurance if they didn’t have kids and then come to the logical conclusion that Peter _did_ , in fact, have kids before the fire. 

Stiles didn’t respond, just went back to noisily slurping his milkshake. Peter wondered if they should leave or if he should at least warn Stiles that Derek was about to crash their little non-date. He decided not to. He wasn’t running from Derek, not anymore. Not after Derek took off with his tail between his legs.

Derek came through the door while Stiles was still trying to fish the cherry out of his milkshake. He looked as though it was physically painful for him to restrain himself from wolfing out and tearing Peter to shreds right then and there. Peter tried not to look too smug about it.

“Peter. You’re coming with me.” Derek growled, pointedly not looking at or addressing Stiles. Peter almost cringed. Derek had a hell of a flair for fucking up. 

“Derek, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Stiles asked. His tone was calm and steady, but there was a look in his eyes that was all fire. It was actually pretty similar to the look he had when he was telling Peter he wanted him to come inside of him so Derek would smell exactly where he’d been. Peter wondered if Derek had any idea how dangerous that look could be. 

“Stay out of this, Stiles.” Derek growled, again avoiding eye contact. Oh this was just perfect. Derek may as well have wrapped Stiles with a big gaudy bow and a tag with Peter’s name on it.

“What is this about, Derek?” Peter said, maintaining a level of calm that had to be downright infuriating to Derek. At this point Derek leaned forward and grabbed the front of Peter’s shirt.

“I said, you’re coming with me. Now.” Derek growled, putting on his best alpha voice. If he actually thought he could convince Peter to come get murdered in a quiet and orderly fashion, then he was more fucked in the head than Peter thought.

“Whoa, hold the fuck on. You want to interrupt _my_ night then I think I at least have the right to know why.” Stiles said. Peter noticed the way Stiles was clutching his fork and he wondered if Derek would actually manage to piss Stiles off enough that the boy resorted to stabbing him in the eye with a fork. It was so damn cute Peter had to bite his tongue just to keep from smiling. 

“I think you know exactly why he’s interrupting us. It’s because I’m with you. Right Derek?” Peter said. Derek just growled. 

“You need to stay away from him. Stiles, he’s dangerous. How do you not see what he’s doing?” Derek said, finally turning his attention to Stiles.

“What Derek? What is he doing? Oh yeah, he’s taking me out to dinner to cheer me up after you started a fucking snowball effect that’s essentially ruining my life. I can see how dangerous that might seem.” Stiles said.

“He’s manipulating you! Peter doesn’t care if you’re hurt or upset unless he can take advantage of it! I thought you’d be smart enough to see that!” Derek said. At this point they had the entire restaurant’s attention. Derek seemed to notice and forced himself to visibly calm. 

“What do you think he wants from me, exactly? Sex? He already got that, Derek. What do I have to offer him? What the hell does he have to gain here?” Stiles said. 

_’Everything,’_ Peter thought. Derek actually seemed stumped for a moment, the poor bastard. 

“You know what, I wish someone had come and warned me away from _you_. I wish someone told me that you were going to string me along up until the point where you decided things had gotten too comfortable. That being the point where you cheat on me in the most blatant and obnoxious way possible on the off chance that I’d find out about it and you’d be rid of me. Where the hell was my knight in shining armor then?” Stiles said, so earnestly that it was hard to decipher the sarcasm from the truth. Derek flinched a little.

“I know how badly I fucked up Stiles. I don’t know what point you’re trying to prove, but you don’t have to do this.” Derek said. Stiles actually smiled and Peter wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the boy look so terrifying. That was saying something considering Stiles had once set him on fire with a Molotov cocktail.

“You know what? When I first fucked Peter, yeah, I did it to hurt you. But guess what? I don’t give a shit about your feelings anymore, Derek. You were gone and I thought that was it. Believe it or not, my life doesn’t revolve around you anymore. Every fucking person I know thinks I’m a piece of shit just for talking to him, but he’s the only person that was here for me today when I needed someone. I just wanted to go out and eat some fucking curly fries and forget about how breathtakingly miserable I am, just for a little bit.” 

“Stiles, I-“ 

“No, I’m not done. You don’t get to take everything from me, Derek. I don’t have you, I don’t have my friends, and I don’t have my pack. You took all of that away from me. You’re not taking this away from me though, and if you try to? I’ll fucking end you, Derek. You have no goddamn clue what I am capable of. You’ve _never_ really understood what I’m capable of. I know more about your weaknesses than any other living person, except for maybe Peter who, newsflash, isn’t exactly on your side right now. You interfere in my life one more time and it’ll be the last thing you do. Alpha or not.” Stiles said. 

Derek looked devastated. Apparently, the thought that Stiles might not appreciate being “rescued” hadn’t truly crossed Derek’s mind. If it had, then he certainly didn’t expect this kind of response. He quickly managed to turn the startled, hurt look on his face into a grim scowl. 

“You hate me. Good. Hate me. I’m a fucking asshole and you _should_ hate me. That doesn’t change what Peter is. You know what he’s capable of, Stiles. You know what he’s done. Think about what he did to Laura, or Scott, or Lydia. You still have friends. Yes, they fucked up, but they care about you. They’re worried about you. Don’t sit here thinking Peter is the only person left in the world for you because he’s really not.” Derek said. 

“Wow, good speech. Now can you please leave me and my _date_ alone?” Stiles said with a sharp edged smile. Admittedly, calling Peter his date in front of Derek was a pretty childish move, but Peter was pleased nonetheless.

“No. Actually I can’t. This isn’t all about you, Stiles. I’m still the Alpha and I still have to deal with Peter, _date_ or not.” Derek said, practically spitting the word date. 

“You’re right.” Peter said. Stiles turned his glare on him, but Peter continued on, “I think I understand. I challenged you as Alpha and you can’t ignore that.”

“Challenge him? When did you challenge him?” Stiles asked. Peter gave him a pointed look and watched as the realization dawned on him. Derek flushed. He was clearly hoping to avoid explaining this to Stiles.

“Wait, what?” Stiles said.

“You can’t go after the Alpha’s mate and not expect there to be consequences. I should have realized the position that put Derek in…” Peter said. Derek growled under his breath. 

“Excuse me? Mate? No no no no. I don’t think so. I stopped being your _mate_ the moment I walked in on you. As far as I was concerned, I was a free agent at that point.” Stiles said.

“This isn’t an issue of technicalities, Stiles. It’s about intent and respect.” Derek said, glowering. 

“It’s fine, Stiles. I completely understand. I would do the same thing in his position.” Peter said with a casual shrug.

“So what does that mean?” Stiles asked looking between Derek and Peter.

“Well either I roll over and submit and beg for my Alpha’s forgiveness or we fight and he defends his claim as Alpha. Or…” 

“Or?” Stiles asked.

“Or I leave the pack. As I intend to. Derek, I’m no longer a member of your pack. Consider any challenge withdrawn.” Peter said, watching Derek’s face shift between suspicion and confusion. 

“So what, you’re just an omega now?” Stiles asked incredulously. 

“That’s the long and short of it. Considering the rest of the pack’s feelings towards me, I think it’s for the best. All I ask is that I be allowed to remain in Beacon Hills. I’ll stay away from you and your pack, you stay away from me. Seem reasonable?” Peter asked. Derek looked as though he’d rather tear Peter’s head off than trust that deal, but it was so unlike Peter to give up any kind of power that he was thrown. 

“And Stiles?” Derek finally asked.

“Stiles will do whatever the hell Stiles wants. I’m not a part of your pack anymore, you’ve all made that abundantly clear, so I’m not a part of this agreement.” Stiles snapped. 

“Stiles, no one ever said-“ Derek started, but he was cut off again. Peter didn’t miss the way his eyes briefly flashed when Stiles interrupted him. 

“No. I know enough about pack dynamics to know what it means when one member is driven off and left to lick their wounds alone. I’m human, Derek. I don’t need your pack.” Stiles said. Derek’s claws dug into the table. Stiles looked about ready to break down, himself. The emotional toll of the conversation seemed to be weighing heavily on the both of them. Peter remained unaffected, but that was mostly because everything was going perfectly for him. 

“You don’t have to do this, Stiles. You can still fix things with the others.” Peter said quietly. Derek’s eyes flashed again. 

“I’m not leaving the pack for you, Peter. This has nothing to do with you. It has everything to do with them and the fact that they weren’t there for me when I needed them. They treated me like shit and pushed me away. That’s not a pack.” Stiles said, he turned his attention to Derek, “If anyone wants to try and mend a friendship with me, then that’s great. We can figure that out, but I’m not pack and I never will be.” 

Peter wondered if Stiles really knew what those words meant to Derek or how much they hurt. He had to. He was a perceptive boy and the pain was written all over Derek’s face. Stiles was making a conscious choice not to pull his punches and Peter could see why. Derek had gone about things in the worst way possible if his aim was to bring Stiles back into the pack and mend things with him in some way. If he’d have ignored his pride for a little while longer and talked with Stiles before attempting to deal with Peter, he might have had a chance. Instead he came storming in, ignored Stiles, insulted his intelligence, and generally acted like he had any right to interfere in Stiles’s life. He should have seen how this would end up. 

“Fine. If that’s what you want. Just remember this conversation when he shows you his true colors. Eventually, you’re going to need my help again and when that happens, don’t think I won’t say ‘I told you so’.” Derek snapped, leaning in close enough to Stiles that Peter’s protective instinct toward the boy started kicking in again. Luckily Derek turned and stormed out before pushing it any further because Peter knew that he could no longer take Derek in a fair fight. When the time came to deal with Derek, he’d have to rely on his considerable knowledge and wit. Peter was actually quite comfortable with that. 

The moment Derek’s Camaro had pulled out of sight, Stiles’s face collapsed. Peter wanted to reach out and comfort him, but he didn’t know that it would be welcome. Not yet. Stiles dropped his head down onto his arms and Peter could smell the saline. 

“I’m going to take care of the check then I’ll take you home, ok?” Peter said quietly. Stiles didn’t respond, just took a deep shaky breath. By the time Peter came back to the table, Stiles had managed to compose himself a little better. Only the redness in his eyes gave away the fact that he was a hair’s breadth away from crying. 

Peter wished he could explain everything to Stiles. He wished he could explain that one day soon they’d have their own pack and Derek would never hurt him again. He wished he could explain how temporary this loneliness would be. They were omegas for now, but one day they would both be raised to their former glory. Peter as Alpha and Stiles as the mate of an Alpha. Right where they belonged. He wanted to tell the boy that things had to get worse before they could get better, but he knew Stiles wasn’t ready to understand. Not yet. 

Stiles followed Peter out to the car in complete silence, broken only once they’d left the parking lot. 

“Why did you leave the pack?” Stiles asked. Peter smiled a little.

“I thought I explained myself pretty well.” 

“No. You didn’t explain anything; you just made it sound like you were explaining. You’re very good at talking without really saying anything.” Stiles said. Peter felt warmed by the compliment, intentional or not.

“The truth is simple. I wasn’t going to kiss my nephew’s ass for a place in his pack because I don’t think he deserves it. My other option was to fight him. If I lost, he’d kill me. Permanently this time, I’d think. If I won, I’d kill him, but you’d want nothing to do with me.” Peter explained flatly. Stiles let out a squawk of laughter.

“You really expect me to believe you’d choose me over being the Alpha again?” he said. 

“I don’t expect you to believe anything. You wanted to know and I told you.” Peter said with a shrug. Stiles just shook his head. 

“So will I end up regretting this? When you ‘show your true colors’?” Stiles said bitterly, putting air quotes around Derek’s chosen words. 

“You’ve already seen my true colors, Stiles. You know who I am. And you might end up regretting this, but I promise it won’t be for the reasons Derek thinks.” Peter said as he drove. He caught Stiles raising an eyebrow at him from his peripheral vision and continued, “I’m a dangerous person. I’m not even a person, not really, but I will never be dangerous to _you_. Not anymore.” 

Stiles sunk back into his seat and seemed to ponder that for a moment. Peter wished Stiles could have heard his heartbeat. If he could, he would have heard how very true that statement was. Stiles was the only person Peter could or would make that promise about, but it was true. If Peter had his way, then one day Stiles _would_ be able to hear his heartbeat, but by then he wouldn’t need it to know when Peter was telling him the truth. 

“Don’t take me home yet.” Stiles finally said. Peter gave him a significant look considering what had happened the last time Stiles said that to him, but Stiles waved it away, “I just need some time to calm down before I face my dad, don’t get too excited.” 

“Would this be a good time to mention I got an apartment?” Peter asked. Stiles laughed.

“You’re kidding. What, did you decide to settle in for keeps the moment you thought Derek took off?” 

“Something like that. It’s still empty, but I have the key. I could show you the place.” Peter said. Stiles just shrugged and Peter took that as an un-enthusiastic yes. 

“You know, now that you’re essentially the only friend I have, it falls to you to help me put the place together.” Peter said.

“Friend? Let’s not be too hasty there.” Stiles said. Peter just chuckled.

“Funny, not too long ago I was your date.” 

“Yeah, well we have a complicated relationship.” Stiles said with a shrug. If Peter grinned any wider his lips would split. He spoke teenager well enough to know what it meant when they threw around the term ‘complicated’. 

“Yeah, I suppose we do.” Peter said. He turned to his apartment with high hopes as to the ways he might be able to help Stiles relax before he took him home again. 

_Complicated._ He liked that word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you things were going to get worse before they got better. Well for Derek and Stiles at least. Peter is having a great time.


	7. Stiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Peter's got mad game and continues his plan to wife Stiles up, more or less. Stiles deals with the fact that he has really shitty coping mechanisms. 
> 
> In other words, Steter smut ahead! Consider yourself warned!

Stiles wondered if asking Peter to buy him booze would be pushing his luck. Under normal circumstances this would be the point where Scott should have taken him out in the woods to get him drunk, but apparently that wasn’t going to happen this time around. Instead, he found himself letting Peter take him off somewhere, alone. He knew it was another bad idea in a long list of his recent bad ideas, but he at least trusted Peter enough to know he was physically safe with him. Mentally or emotionally, though? He wouldn’t bet on it. Then again, he was already feeling pretty twisted up in those departments. 

Somehow, being with Peter was just… easy. Peter made him feel strangely powerful. He made him feel intelligent, capable, worthy of someone else’s desire. In other words, he was giving Stiles everything that had been taken away from him recently. He’d felt stupid and powerless when he first walked in on Derek and everything that Derek had said to him in the restaurant only compounded that fact. He felt completely worthless. Derek didn’t want him. His pack didn’t want him. He began to wonder if they’d ever wanted him in the first place. Maybe Derek had only wanted sex and had humored Stiles when he assumed otherwise. Maybe Stiles had only assumed he was a part of the pack because of his connection to Derek and Scott. Peter seemed to be the only one that truly wanted him anymore and Derek wanted to take that away from him too. 

Stiles was beginning to worry less and less about why Peter wanted him or what he wanted him for. It seemed far too naïve to assume that Peter genuinely just wanted to be with him. Although that thought alone was disturbing enough considering the age difference. Stiles couldn’t let go of the feeling that Peter must have an ulterior motive. After all, he always had in the past. Admittedly, Peter leaving the pack threw him for a loop. It just didn’t make sense. What did he have to gain from giving up his pack and the added power and protection that came with it? Stiles had a natural inclination to mistrust Peter, but he couldn’t figure out how that move could possible help him.

Stiles tried to think back to a time when he was terrified of Peter. He remembered being on his knees in front of him, watching Lydia bleed. His whole body was trembling so hard he thought he would shake apart. Now… now he was forgetting that this was even the same person. Maybe it wasn’t. Stiles knew he should never forgive Peter for the things he’d done and he promised himself he never would, but that didn’t mean he had to stay away, did it? 

Peter drove across town to his apartment complex. Peter living like a normal person was strange enough that Stiles might have come to see his apartment based on curiosity alone. Of course, it would have been a lot more interesting if the place weren’t empty. 

“Welcome to my humble abode.” Peter said gesturing to the empty space after having led him to the top floor apartment. It was a nice place with a big open floor plan. The main living area was large enough for a living room and a dining room and Stiles could see into a well-appointed kitchen. There were glass doors in the living room that opened up to a balcony. Across the room there was a hallway that must have led to the bathroom and the bedroom. 

“Not much of an evil lair.” Stiles said. Peter chuckled darkly. 

“Yeah well, I haven’t had time to bring in my evil decorator yet.” 

“Are you staying here already?’ 

“Yes. I got tired of motels so now the only piece of furniture I own is a mattress.” Peter said with a grin. Stiles went down the hall, deciding to take the tour into his own hands. He peeked into the bathroom and saw that Peter at least had the toiletries covered. There was toothpaste and a toothbrush, a razor, and he assumed the shower might actually have soap in it if he were to peek behind the curtain. He didn’t. Instead he continued to snoop and went into Peter’s bedroom, not bothering to wait for permission. Stiles had this stubborn feeling that being polite to Peter was a step too far, strange as that was. 

“Well, just make yourself at home.” Peter said as Stiles flopped down onto the mattress. It was the only thing in the room other than the bag Stiles had seen at the motel. At least Peter had sheets and blankets.

“Is this seriously everything you own?” Stiles said, bouncing on the mattress a little. 

“Yeah, well considering I went from being comatose, to dead, to living like a hobo with my hobo nephew….” 

“Yeah, I get it. So are you… settling down then? Buying hand towels and curtains and living like a real boy?” 

“That’s the idea.” Peter said, sitting down on the bed next to Stiles. Stiles fought the warring urges to either scoot away or move closer. He at least managed to stop bouncing, but he considering taking it up again if it would disguise how hard his heart was beating. Peter felt warm and steady beside him and it would be so easy to just lean in and… 

Stiles jumped up and went to over to the window. Peter had the tiniest hint of a grin and it was making him incredibly irritable. 

“Stiles, calm down. You _wanted_ to come here remember? I’m not going to try anything… Unless you ask me to.” Peter said. 

“I am calm.” 

“No, you’re not. Look, I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want any of this and I know that getting involved with me has only made things worse. You’re not going to believe me, but I didn’t intend for any of this to happen.” 

“So why did you do it? The sex, I mean. I know why I did it, but why did you do it? To get back at Derek?” Stiles asked, turning away from the window to look at Peter.

“Because I wanted you.” Peter said, standing up and walking toward Stiles. Stiles didn’t back away this time. He searched Peter’s face for some sign of the evil hiding underneath, but at that moment all he could see was desire. That, at least, seemed undeniably sincere. 

Peter raised his hand and cupped Stiles’s face, his thumb brushing against a cheekbone. Stiles tried to steel himself to pull away, but he just couldn’t. He wanted it. He hated himself for it, but he wanted Peter.

“Tell me to stop and I will. I’ll turn around and drive you home right now if that’s what you want…. But…” 

“But what?” Stiles asked. He wasn’t sure why, but he was whispering. 

“But I really hope you don’t.” Peter said, so close that Stiles could feel the warmth of his breath across his cheek. He shivered and tried one last time to talk himself into leaving, but instead he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Peter’s neck. For all the Derek had occasionally played at letting Stiles dominate him, he was always strangely defensive about his neck. Peter didn’t flinch or push Stiles away, instead he gently put a hand on his waist and took in a deep breath. Stiles nuzzled further into his neck, pressing his face into the warmth, breathing in the subtle masculine smell of Peter. He could swear he actually felt Peter shiver. 

Stiles pushed him backwards onto the bed and Peter went easily, but not without pulling Stiles down with him. Stiles followed the momentum and ended up with his lips pressed against Peter’s. Peter kissed him gently, slowly licking into his mouth and pulling his lip in to nibble on it. It was so different from the last time they kissed, so much more tender and intimate than the bruising violent kisses they’d shared last time. Stiles pulled away and pressed his mouth against Peter’s neck again, catching his breath and breathing in Peter’s scent. Peter grabbed his shoulders and pulled him close, his whole body arching up towards Stiles. 

“This doesn’t mean anything.” Stiles whispered.

“To you.” Peter corrected and then flipped Stiles on to his back, licking a stripe along his jugular and running his hands through the short spikes of Stiles’s hair. Stiles didn’t argue with him. He didn’t actually know how to argue that point, truth be told. Maybe it really did mean something to Peter. He knew he shouldn’t be encouraging any feelings Peter might have, but it was so hard to try and do the right thing when Peter was sliding strong warm hands under his shirt.

“Fuck…” Stiles groaned as Peter dragged a thumbnail over his nipple. Peter slid down far enough to get his mouth on Stiles’s body. He sucked and bit marks into pale flesh and Stiles let himself enjoy the sensation. He was a little nervous about letting Peter mark him like that, too much like he was claiming him, but he figured Peter was at least keeping it to places that weren’t openly visible so he didn’t protest. 

“You taste as good as I remember.” Peter said, working his way down to the cuts of Stiles’s hips, scraping a fingernail down his happy trail until his thumb landed on the button of his jeans. 

“Would you still stop if I asked you to? Right now?” Stiles asked, looking down to where Peter was opening the fly of his jeans to find more flesh to taste. Peter looked up at him and his eyes flashed. For a moment neither of them moved. Stiles felt a tiny rush of panic rising in his chest. It had been a hypothetical question, but he was beginning to worry about the answer. Finally, Peter sat up and pulled entirely away from Stiles’s body. 

“Yes.” He said. Stiles let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. 

“You’re still afraid of me.” Peter said flatly. Stiles didn’t argue. 

“What do I have to do to prove that you have nothing to fear from me?” he asked. 

“I will never be stupid enough to believe that.” Stiles said, but the fact that he was laid out on the man’s bed with his shirt pushed up around his chest seemed to undermine his words. Peter just gave Stiles a sad half-smile. 

“Do you want me to stop, then?” Peter said. Stiles took a moment to think that over. This was it. Yet another chance for him to do the right thing and ask Peter to take him home. He looked at Peter, sitting there, still hard, waiting patiently and willing to drop everything at a word. 

Damn. 

Stiles didn’t answer. Instead, he sat up and grabbed Peter’s shirt to yank him forward. Peter went with it and ended up bracing himself over Stiles. He seemed genuinely surprised to find himself in that position and narrowed his eyes at Stiles like he was still waiting to be pushed away. Stiles just rolled his eyes and pulled Peter into a kiss, nipping at his bottom lip hard enough to make the man growl.

“Stiles, if you don’t want this to go any further, you need to tell me now.” Peter said, his eyes flashing. 

“Don’t make me change my mind. Just… just shut up and fuck me, ok?” Stiles said, breathlessly trying to pull Peter back in. He really didn’t want to think anymore. He had been avoiding vocalizing his consent outright because he was afraid of what it would mean once he did. This time, he thought, it counts. This time it’s premeditated. He didn’t know what that really said about him, but he was sure it wasn’t anything good. 

Peter went to work eagerly ridding Stiles of all his clothes. Irritatingly enough, he managed to rip Stiles’s shirt despite not having trouble controlling himself otherwise. Stiles could have almost sworn it was on purpose. He gave Peter a dirty look, but Peter just grinned and went about his business. When he had Stiles spread out naked across his bed he took a second to just kneel there and look at him before sliding his hands reverently down the expanse of Stiles’s skin. The way Peter touched him was almost worshipful. The way he devoured him with his eyes like he was setting every freckle and angle to memory almost made Stiles shiver with its intensity. He felt impossibly vulnerable, laid out naked and exposed while a still fully clothed Peter kneeled over him.

Stiles opened his mouth to make a complaint, anything to break the mood and shake Peter out of his reverie, but he was silenced by two fingers sliding between his lips. It felt so natural to suck them in and lick at them that he forgot he had ever planned to do anything else. Peter’s other hand wrapped around his cock and started stroking him and Stiles’s eyes fell closed, making it so easy to forget the almost jarring power imbalance between him and the man touching him. 

“You should see yourself right now. You look so completely lost.” Peter said. 

_Lost._ Stiles thought it was a strange choice of word, but he was soon distracted by Peter’s talented mouth teasing his balls as he continued stroking. Stiles’s moaned around the fingers in his mouth, growing louder and Peter’s tongue trailed further down his body. He tilted his hips back and spread his legs, desperately offering up the most vulnerable parts of his body to Peter. He began to wonder if there was something wrong with his survival instinct. Like maybe his was missing. That would certainly explain a lot.

Peter took everything Stiles offered and then some, violating his body with his tongue and lips and teeth. Stiles let out a pathetic whimper when Peter finally pulled his fingers away from his mouth, but the whimper turned into a full on moan when Peter began to tease his hole with his saliva coated fingers. 

“Peter!” Stiles gasped out when a finger slipped inside. Peter bit his lip and grinned and Stiles immediately regretted opening his mouth. He was giving Peter too much. He had _been_ giving Peter too much, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to stop. Every time he told himself to stop or pull back, a little voice in his head asked, _’Why?’_ and in the heat of the moment, answers weren’t forthcoming. Everyone already thought the worst of him. He was already being punished for it, so why shouldn’t he enjoy himself? What did he have left to lose at this point? God knows his self-respect had long since left the building by then. 

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you like this. The way you sound… the way you smell when you’re ready for me to fuck you. You don’t even know it, but you’re body starts begging long before your mouth does.” Peter said, half growling and focused on the sight of his fingers slipping in and out of Stiles’s clenching hole. 

“Did you think about it too, Stiles? Did you think about how good it felt to have me inside you?” Peter asked, two fingers now stroking against Stiles’s prostate. Stiles might have intended to answer with words, but all that came out was a sob that was part pleasure and part despair becase _yes _, he had thought about it and _yes,_ it had felt good. __

“No, that’s not an answer. Tell me. Did you think about me?” Peter asked. Stiles wasn’t too far gone to notice the change from _’it’_ to _’me’_. He went to cover his face with his hands, but Peter easily pinned his arms above his head with the hand not currently busy with Stiles’s ass. 

“Answer me, Stiles.” Peter growled, his eyes flashing dangerously. Stiles felt his eyes water. God, he was so fucking close and Peter was still fully dressed. 

“Yes! Please, just… yes. I thought about...” Stiles broke off in a plaintive moan as Peter leaned in to kiss the curve of his clavicle. 

“Keep going, tell me what you thought about.” Peter whispered. 

“I… fuck. I thought about you, about your cock, how you taste… Peter! Oh my god, I thought about you talking to me, you dirty fuck.” Stiles said, thrusting his hips against Peter’s hand as he added a third finger. 

“Yeah? You don’t know the half of it. The things I think about when you’re laying here spread open like a little slut… I want to make you beg and cry until I finally let you come and that’s before I even fuck you.” Peter growled. Stiles reached up and clutched at Peter’s shirt, which reminded him that the clothes ratio between them was highly skewed. 

“Take your clothes off.” Stiles pleaded. Peter gave a couple more teasing thrusts with his fingers before pulling away to get undressed. Stiles reached down to stroke himself, watching Peter hungrily as he undressed. Peter’s mouth dropped open and he stared for a moment before getting his ass back in gear and getting undressed. 

Peter pressed Stiles down against the bed with the warm weight of his naked body, pinning his arms above his head. He rutted against Stiles’s hip and kissed his neck and Stiles moaned and arched up into every thrust. Peter stopped and pulled back to sit on his knees before yanking Stiles’s ass onto his lap, his legs spread wide across Peter’s thighs and his shoulders still pressed against the mattress. 

“Please, just fuck me.” Stiles pleaded, but Peter was apparently a lot more patient than he was. Instead he slipped two fingers back inside Stiles and stroked him slowly with his other hand. 

“No. I want to see you come first.” Peter said and Stiles figured he could be patient considering Peter’s goal wasn’t too far away. He arched against the bed and hooked his legs tight around Peter’s hips. He tried to scoot up the bed and further into Peter’s lap, but Peter had no problem maneuvering Stiles wherever he wanted him. 

“Come on, Stiles. Give it up for me, come on.” Peter coaxed breathlessly as he worked Stiles closer and closer to the edge with every twist of his wrist and curl of his fingers. 

“Fuck, I’m close. So close.” Stiles panted. Peter’s eyes were locked on him with laser like intensity, his mouth open and his nostrils flaring as he scented the air. He leaned in and licked at the sweat dripping down Stiles’s neck and groaned, inhaling deep against his skin. Stiles knew he was a little too accustomed to sex with werewolves when _that_ was what sent him spinning off into an orgasm. He could feel himself clenching tight around Peter’s fingers as he came, fucking up into Peter’s fist with stuttering thrusts. He was starting to wonder if he would ever be able to enjoy normal human sex without all the weird werewolf scenting stuff. 

Peter didn’t hesitate to lean down and lick Stiles clean of his own come. Stiles looked down and watched as Peter licked him clean, occasionally looking up at him with deep blue eyes that were almost all pupil. Stiles really wished Peter had been uglier. If Derek had an old ugly uncle with strong moral integrity and not a drop of wit, Stiles’s whole life would be a lot easier. Then again, if that were the case, he wouldn’t be laying there enjoying a thorough tongue bathing that was making him feel a lot more dirty than clean. In the warm fuzzy afterglow, it almost seemed like a decent trade off. 

When Peter finally seemed satisfied, partly from cleaning up every last drop of come and partly from coaxing Stiles back to at least half an erection, he turned Stiles over and starting rubbing his warm palms against Stiles skin, sliding down to cup his ass and spread it open. Stiles moaned and pressed his hips into the bed, looking for friction against his still slightly sensitive cock. 

“That’s perfect. You can’t even hide how bad you want this, can you?” Peter said, sounding both amused and a little awestruck. Stiles was glad he was in a position to hide his face against the sheets because Peter’s words rung a little too close to true. God, he knew he shouldn’t want it, but he did, and every time he let Peter in it got harder to turn him away. 

Maybe after this he would do the smart thing and block Peter’s number and maybe reacquaint himself with the wonders of mountain ash. Then he thought about having to sit at his house with nothing to distract him from thoughts of Derek, not even Peter’s stupid texts. Nothing to do but sit and wonder if Derek had already moved on. Maybe he was still fucking that guy from the depot…. 

“Peter… you’ve gotta-“ Stiles started to beg. He didn’t know how he planned to finish that sentence.  
 _’Distract me, Shut my brain up, Fuck me until I forget who Derek Hale even is,’_ Any of those would work, but he never finished his thought. 

“Shh, I’m gonna give you everything you need,” Peter said, pulling Stiles back onto hands and knees and pressing up against him, “I know _exactly_ what you need, Stiles. You just need to trust me.” 

Stiles wanted to protest. He couldn’t trust Peter. Wouldn’t…. but then Peter was lining up and pushing in, devastatingly slow, and all Stiles could think about was the heat of Peter’s cock warming him from inside and silencing every last reasonable argument echoing in his head. Peter worked up to a punishing rhythm and Stiles started to scoot up the bed with each thrust, his fingers clutching uselessly at the sheets. Peter pressed his face down into the bed by the back of his neck and kept a tight grip as he pounded into Stiles, every thrust punctuated by a deep growl. 

“Fuck, just like that.” Stiles moaned, bracing himself with one forearm against the mattress so his other hand was free to reach down and stroke himself. 

“I knew I’d have you again. Too fucking good not to have this again.” Peter growled and Stiles couldn’t argue. It did seem horribly inevitable. Stiles’s moans turned desperate as Peter began to pull all the way out each time before thrusting back inside in one long deep stroke. Stiles worked his cock frantically. He felt like Peter’s cock and the heavy reassuring hand pressing down on his neck were the only things keeping him attached to the planet. 

“God, I can smell it. You’re so close, aren’t you? Gonna come again for me?” Peter asked. Stiles didn’t miss the deep breathless quality to his voice. He wasn’t the only one getting close. 

“Yeah, so close. Please, want to feel you come in my ass so bad. I need it.” Stiles said. He wasn’t sure if the dirty talk was for him or Peter at this point. 

“Mm, I know you do. You always need it. Need to be marked up inside like a good little bitch, don’t you?” Peter growled. Stiles cried out and came in thick ropes against his fist and Peter’s sheets. Peter gripped his hips tight, holding up his slack body and pounded into him as he followed Stiles over the edge and spilled into him. After his thrusts finally slowed and stopped, Peter stayed pressed tight into Stiles and rubbed soothing circles against the new bruises forming on the boy’s hips. He finally pulled out and pressed himself against Stiles back, arms wrapped tight around him. 

This was new. This was… bad. There had been no holding last time. No. Cuddling with Peter was a step too far. He went to pull away, but Peter just pulled him flush against his chest and shushed him. 

“I need a shower. Come on, let me up.” Stiles grumbled, shifting uncomfortably at the feeling of slick come leaking out of his hole. 

“Just sit still for five minutes and you can have your damn shower.” Peter grumbled, sounding half asleep. Stiles huffed and gave up his wriggling and settled down. 

“Five minutes. Then I’m taking a shower and you’re taking me home.” Stiles insisted. 

“Mmhmm.” Peter mumbled sleepily. Stiles yawned and closed his eyes. Five minutes of rest and he’d be on his way. He could go home and ponder his shitty life choices from his cold little twin size bed and maybe he’d work up the strength to cut himself off from Peter. 

What he certainly didn’t intend to do was fall asleep in Peter’s bed and not wake up until the morning sun was blaring in at him through the curtain-less windows. 


	8. Derek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac helps Derek blow off steam after his run in with Stiles and Peter. Things are alright until they aren't and then a big misunderstanding brings Scott and Derek to blows and Derek starts to see just how badly his pack is starting to fall apart. 
> 
> In other words: Derek needs to put on his big boy pants.

Derek didn’t bother heading back to the depot. Instead he drove straight toward the preserve with no regard to the speed limit whatsoever. He pitied any cop that tried to pull him over tonight, sheriff or otherwise. 

Admittedly, Derek wasn’t in his right mind. Finding his ex on a “date” with his psychotic uncle was bound to have that effect. Derek was completely confounded. Peter wasn’t someone you went on a “date” with. He was someone you found showing up with a six-pack of wine coolers and a pocket full of condoms and lube, only to be waylaid by Chris Hansen and Dateline NBC. Ok, so maybe that was a little hypocritical, but Derek refused to compare the three year age difference between him and Stiles to the whopping twenty year age difference that came with Peter. 

Derek would have felt better about the whole thing if Stiles had at least moved on to someone close to his own age or at least someone a little less manipulative and unpredictable. Someone he could bring to meet the pack, not someone that would cause a huge rift to form between him and all his friends.

The idea of Stiles being with anyone else made Derek a little sick, but he really did want him to be happy somehow. He didn’t see how Stiles could ever be happy if he was letting Peter fuck with his head, so his desire to get Peter as far away from Stiles as possible wasn’t entirely selfish. Derek didn’t have a single doubt in his mind that Peter was up to something. He may have outmaneuvered Derek for the moment, but Derek should have expected that. Peter was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. 

The Camaro pulled up to the Hale house and Derek immediately knew he wasn’t alone. He sighed and stepped out of the car. Sure enough, Isaac got up from where he’d been sitting in the shadows of the old house’s front porch. 

“Hey.” Isaac said. Derek rolled his eyes and went to sit down on the decrepit front steps. He should have expected as much from Isaac. He always seemed to know what Derek was going to do before Derek did. Sometimes he thought Isaac had taken him in rather than it being the other way around. While the others left Derek well enough alone, Isaac was always waiting there quietly, never pushing or judging. Derek had turned him away every time like clockwork until the day he just… didn’t. It was a while after that before Derek actually started confiding in him. 

“Peter’s still alive.” Isaac said. It wasn’t a question. Isaac would be greeting a very different Derek if he’d killed Peter. They would feel it. Now all there was to feel from Derek was anger and sadness and a touch of humiliation. 

“He voluntarily left the pack and revoked his challenge. I can’t kill him.” Derek said. It made him angry that there was still a part of him that was relieved despite everything his uncle had done… and was likely currently doing.

“Wow. That’s…. unexpected.” Isaac said. The understatement of the year award goes to….

“Stiles was with him. They were on a _’date’_.” Derek said, spitting the word date with obvious disgust and complementary air quotes. Isaac sighed.

“Do you think he’s just trying to get to you? I mean, he can’t be seriously into Peter. He hates Peter.” Isaac said.

“Yeah, he used to hate me too.” Derek mumbled. Then he realized that Stiles was back to hating him again. The wheel of life kept turning, apparently. Hell, maybe he could just wait it out and Stiles would eventually cycle back to hating Peter and liking him again. Maybe pigs would start flying too. 

“I just got so fucking wound up. They managed to turn everything I said back on me because everything I said kept coming out wrong.” Derek said. 

“Well, you weren’t exactly prepared for a _verbal_ battle…” Isaac said with a shrug. 

“I should know Stiles better than that, though. I should have known what to say. All I did was piss him off by talking down to him and you know how he is, now he won’t listen to anything I say on principle. Jesus, it’s infuriating… but I can’t… I can’t just leave things like this.” Derek said, scrubbing at his face with his palms like he could brush away all the weariness. 

“Look, maybe you should… write it down? Get everything out of your head and make sure you’re saying exactly what you want to say, you know? And…” Isaac trailed off and looked uncomfortable for a moment. 

“What?” Derek said, nudging him.

“Maybe… don’t bring up Peter? I mean, just focus on you and Stiles, you know? Don’t bring up Peter if you don’t have to because that’s where everything seems to get fucked up.” Isaac said. Derek sat there silently for a moment. Maybe Isaac had a point. Every time he brought up Peter or got him involved he only managed to push Stiles farther away. 

“I don’t know. I’ll… think about it.” Derek said. Isaac nodded. He knew that was likely as far as the conversation was going to get at that point. 

“You wanna run?” Isaac asked after a few more moments of easy silence. Derek nodded. He wasn’t sure, because he didn’t have much basis for comparison, but he thought Isaac might be the closest thing he had to a best friend. 

Isaac took off at a run and shifted and Derek followed his lead. He never shifted into his Alpha form and no one really asked him why. Stiles had once, but Derek managed to effectively avoid the subject. Truth was it just… hadn’t happened. He wasn’t even sure how to do it and he refused to ask Peter. Until he figured it out on his own, his beta form would have to do. It had worked for him so far. 

Derek and Isaac spent the better part of the night running wild through the preserve, hunting and racing and playing tag until they finally collapsed on the ground, exhausted and sweating. 

“Thanks.” Derek mumbled, lying flat on his back and looking up to the sky. Isaac didn’t say anything, he just lay down and scooted up next to Derek, mirroring his position and looking up at the stars. They didn’t speak again or move until the sun started peeking over the horizon. At some point, Isaac had fallen asleep, but Derek hadn’t. He was too busy contemplating Isaac’s advice. He had run off a lot of his immediate anger and the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. 

Derek shook his beta awake and they piled into the Camaro to head back to the depot. Isaac immediately went to collapse onto Derek’s mattress and pass out. Derek was tempted to stay up and write his letter to Stiles, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt anything to sleep on it. He contemplated taking Isaac’s bed since Isaac had commandeered his, but he didn’t really see the point. He’d probably sleep better with a pack member close by anyway. 

\--

Derek woke up surrounded by a familiar smell and wrapped around a warm body. He sighed, half asleep, and nuzzled in closer, shamelessly pressing his morning wood into the body in front of him… until he realized the familiar smell surrounding him was Isaac’s. 

Derek scrambled off the mattress only to find Scott standing there giving him a look of pure malice. Derek moving away had woken up Isaac who looked completely unaware of his surroundings and adorably sleep ruffled. 

_Fucking great._ Derek thought to himself. Scott’s golden glowing eyes were darting between Derek (now doing a piss-poor job of covering his morning erection, because his dick was choosing to remain stubbornly hard) and Isaac who was stretching like a cat across the bed. The fact that they both still smelled like sweat and each other from running together the night before, not to mention the fact that they had stripped out of their muddy clothes and slept in their underwear, wasn’t helping matters. 

Derek went to open his mouth to explain that things were not what they seemed, but apparently his recent actions had put him at a bit of a disadvantage. He now had a bit of a reputation as a shameless horny asshole to contend with.

Scott growled and lunged. He’d never given a shit that Derek was the Alpha before and he certainly didn’t give a shit now. Derek dodged out of the way, his erection (finally) gone. Beta or not, Scott wasn’t someone Derek really wanted to get into it with. He’d already cheated on the guy’s best friend, now Scott found him in bed with his… whatever Isaac was to him and he wasn’t exactly pulling punches. 

Isaac darted out of bed to try and jump between them, now fully awake, but that seemed to enrage Scott further. He managed to get around Isaac to claw four deep slashes into Derek’s side. Derek growled and shifted, eyes glowing blood bright. More pissed off than apologetic at this point, Derek lunged at Scott, but Scott rolled before Derek could pin him. Scott managed to get in another good swipe, this time catching his claws on a thigh as Derek tried to regain his balance. Before things could get any further, Boyd ran in and managed to grab Scott and pin his arms behind him. Isaac did the same to Derek, but Derek growled and shoved him off. The last thing he needed was another action for Scott to misinterpret. 

“Calm the fuck down.” Boyd said, holding Scott tight until he finally relaxed and shifted back. Isaac moved to go check on Scott, but Scott growled and flashed his eyes at him. Isaac pulled back and sat with his back against the edge of the mattress looking hurt and confused. Now Derek was beginning to get pissed. Isaac may have been Scott’s… whatever, but he was Derek’s beta and Derek wouldn’t see him hurt for no fucking reason. 

“Scott you need to calm down and listen to me.” Derek growled. The entire situation would have been a lot easier had it been anyone but Scott. Scott was the last person to roll over and go belly up. His submitting to Derek as Alpha had always been a conscious choice _he_ made, not something Derek could force upon him. Derek accepted that about Scott because he needed Scott in his pack, but it was a real pain in the ass sometimes. 

“Calm down? I can’t believe you! You just stick your dick wherever the fuck you want and you don’t think twice about the consequences. You know, I should have done this a lot sooner.” Scott growled. 

“Wait… what? Scott-” Isaac said, pre-empting any reply Derek might have had only to be interrupted by more of Scott’s enraged ranting. 

“What? Did he go all Alpha on you? Did he make you roll over for him, Isaac?” Scott snapped. Isaac looked like he’d been slapped. That was fucking _it._ Derek cracked his neck and shifted and in one quick motion he lunged at Scott. Boyd scrambled back and Scott’s back hit the cold concrete. He tried to roll, but Derek didn’t budge. He hadn’t done this to any of his betas, but he’d never really had to. He tried not to think about the fact that he’d probably never had to because Stiles had always been around to play mediator and defuse tense situations like this. 

Derek leaned down and growled, baring his teeth in Scott’s face. He could hear the cacophony of four heartbeats thundering just under the deep growling that echoed throughout the depot. Boyd and Isaac were sitting still as statues as they watched the scene unfold. Scott put up a hell of a fight, determined to get out from under the Alpha, but Derek’s greater strength won out and he finally stopped struggling, neck bared in reluctant submission. Derek knew Scott was going to resent this for a good long while, but he’d left him very little choice. 

“Nothing happened between me and Isaac, Scott. Nothing. I had a bad run in with Stiles and…” Derek paused for a split second and decided not to mention Peter. As much as Peter had denied his involvement with Stiles being a challenge, Derek still felt humiliated. Not to mention the fact that Scott would likely be even harder to calm down after hearing about Peter’s continued involvement in his best friend. 

“Isaac went running with me to help me calm down. We didn’t make it home till early this morning and we both crashed. That’s all. Any… contact was completely accidental.” Derek said, keeping his voice just a touch shy of a growl. Scott looked skeptical until Isaac finally spoke.

“You thought- you thought I fucked Derek?” Isaac said, his voice breaking. Scott’s face fell as he realized what a monumental mistake he’d made. Derek moved and let Scott up. Scott went towards Isaac, but Isaac just shook his head silently. Considering the way Scott had snapped at him when Isaac had tried to do the same thing only moments before, Derek thought Isaac was restraining himself particularly well. 

“I thought you knew me better than that,” was all Isaac said to Scott before turning to Derek. 

“I’m sorry I fell asleep in your bed. Won’t happen again.” Isaac said. Derek’s heart clenched a little as Isaac walked away. Scott went to follow him, but Boyd put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. The universal sign for ‘give him time’. Scott turned to Derek and opened his mouth for a moment, but he seemed to think better of whatever it was he’d been about to say. If Derek had been expecting an apology, he was sorely mistaken. 

Boyd looked between the both of them, silently questioning their ability to be in the same room as each other without it turning into a brawl. Scott and Derek both nodded. Boyd seemed to take this as his cue to leave. He headed outside, most likely to go check on Isaac, leaving Scott and Derek alone with their awkward silence. Derek broke first. 

“I fucked up once, Scott. I’m not…” Derek had wanted to say that he wasn’t the person Scott thought he was, but he didn’t exactly feel confident about that and the last thing he needed was for Scott to pick up on the lie. 

“Listen, I’m going to say this once. I don’t regret doubting you. I regret doubting Isaac. Maybe you didn’t do anything wrong this time, but that doesn’t mean I trust you.” Scott said. Derek didn’t really have anything to say to that. Scott seemed to realize that and turned to leave. Derek stood there silently. Apparently he was fucking up _everyone’s_ relationships now that he didn’t have one of his own to destroy. 

He’d never missed Stiles more in his life. 

Part of him was roaring and aching to just go _find_ him; bring him back to the pack and Derek’s side. Bring him back where he belonged. Trust his animal instinct not to understand the subtle fuckery that was human relationships. Hell, Derek’s human instinct was kind of on board with that assessment too, honestly. Then he remembered that Stiles seemed to prefer Peter to him these days and it felt like a kick in dick. 

Derek was kind of sick of feeling confused and betrayed and guilty all at the same time. He needed to work something out because whatever they had going on now was definitely not working. He couldn’t relax. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t stop worrying about Stiles being alone with Peter because he would never stop worrying about Stiles. No matter how Stiles tried to push him away, Derek would never stop feeling responsible for him. Leaving things like that would be just as bad as running away again and Derek was trying desperately not to give into that urge again. 

Derek got dressed and went outside to find Isaac and Boyd. Scott had apparently gone home. The two betas were sitting outside with their backs against the wall, talking quietly. 

“I’m sorry.” Derek said quietly. It was sort of a catch all phrase for him lately, but considering there was a time not too long ago when he would have yanked out his own fingernails before saying those words, it was progress. 

“It wasn’t your fault.” Isaac said quietly. Boyd just gave Derek a long look. He knew Derek was apologizing for a lot more than what had just happened with Scott. 

“Have either of you heard from Lydia or Jackson?” Derek asked, changing the subject. 

“Scott tried to talk to Lydia about Stiles last night, but she just shut him down. She seemed offended that he even brought it up.” Boyd said. Derek let out a weary sigh. He knew Lydia would be the last person to work things out with Stiles and it was going to be a rough road. She had been furious at the very idea of Peter being pack and Stiles had been her main ally in that battle. Lydia didn’t look well upon fraternizing with the enemy, but more than that, she considered it a personal betrayal for Stiles to fall into bed with Peter after everything he’d done to her. 

“When I saw Stiles last night he said he’d be willing to talk things out with everyone, but he still doesn’t want to be pack anymore.” Derek said, trying and failing to hide the pain he felt whenever he talked about Stiles no longer being pack. 

“We didn’t really want him to leave, you know. We just needed time.” Boyd said. Derek nodded. He didn’t blame them for Stiles leaving. He blamed himself… and Peter.

“I know.” Derek said. They all sat their silently for a few moments. Derek did a mental assessment of how fucked everything had gotten and all because he’d put his dick somewhere he shouldn’t have. He’d started a big fucked up domino effect that had knocked his pack to pieces. His ma- Stiles was with Peter. Peter had chosen to be an omega. Lydia and Jackson seemed to be avoiding everyone. Scott and Isaac were a mess. Hell, he was just waiting for Boyd to finally snap and do something insane. Thank god someone managed to keep their head on. 

“Do either of you have a pen and paper?” Derek finally asked. Boyd looked confused, but Isaac gave him a small half smile. 

“Yeah, one sec.” Isaac said, turning to run back into the depot to dig through his stuff. He came up with one of his school notebooks and a pen and handed it to Derek. Derek stood up and stretched. Damn did he need a shower. 

Usually he would sneak into Stiles’s place and use his shower, but that wasn’t really an option anymore. Isaac used Scott’s or occasionally Boyd’s. Derek was beginning to realize that squatting may not be the best way to live. If it were just him it wouldn’t be such a problem, but they’d manipulated and lied and forged their way into getting Isaac emancipated. In truth, it wasn’t as hard as Derek had expected it to be. He supposed there weren’t many people willing to take in a seriously damaged seventeen year old boy, particularly not one that had been momentarily suspected of murdering his own father. 

Derek had never really thought much about their living arrangements. He had no problem making a home wherever he had to. He and Laura had lived in some pretty questionable places. They had one memorable apartment where the light switch would shock the hell out of you whenever you touched it and another time they rented out a basement from someone and had to deal with the place being constantly flooded with about two inches of water. 

They had been terrified of being found by hunters and avoided living anywhere they needed to sign a lease or use a credit card. They had money, but they’d been afraid to touch it for anything more than the necessities at first. Partly from fear of being found by hunters and partly out of guilt because the money had only come to them at the cost of their entire family. Eventually they got to a point where they let themselves get a real apartment, cars, and new clothes, but Derek had no problem slipping right back into living like a vagrant. That didn’t mean Isaac had to, though. 

Derek made his decision then and there. He needed to get his shit together. Not just for him, but for his pack too. He would take Isaac’s advice and write Stiles a letter and then he was going to borrow Boyd’s shower and go out to look for an apartment. He decided he’d take Isaac with and maybe use the time to talk to him about forgiving Scott’s massive stupidity. Derek didn’t really want another break up under his belt, especially when it wasn’t even his relationship. 

Yep, it was time for Derek Hale to grow the fuck up. 

He was terrified.


	9. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Stiles wake up and have a talk... and a shower. 
> 
> Peter manages to get in a little casual sabotage before shopping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More smut ahead in the form of shower sex. Enjoy!

Peter woke up furious with himself for not having bought curtains yet. The sun was blazing through the window at him and he knew that meant it was time for the inevitable shit storm when Stiles woke to find himself tucked into Peter’s arms. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, but he’d come to accept that his relationship with Stiles would be a dance of two steps forward and one step back. Hell, maybe two or three steps back from time to time. 

Stiles wasn’t awake yet so Peter wrapped himself tighter around the boy and tucked his head in against his neck to hide from the sun. His bedroom smelled fucking amazing. Having the scent of Stiles all over his room was downright intoxicating. Between the rich smell of sex, the heat of Stiles’s body against his, and the simple fact that it was morning; Peter was hard enough to cut diamonds. 

Peter tested the waters by rolling his hips forward a little against Stiles. Stiles mumbled a little in his sleep and elbowed Peter in the stomach. Peter rolled away with a chuckle. How the hell could he be this difficult even in his sleep? It was almost a natural talent with him. 

Peter’s hopes to bask in the calm of the morning for a little bit longer were dashed by the sound of Stiles’s phone ringing…. Well, playing a song at least. Peter refused to feel old just because he didn’t recognize it. 

Stiles opened his eyes and blinked for a moment, taking in his surroundings with a confused and bleary-eyed look. He almost closed his eyes again for a moment when the phone started ringing again. Suddenly he jolted up out of the bed and scrambled to grab his phone out of his jeans pocket, his body hanging halfway off the bed. 

“Hey hello?” Stiles answered the phone, trying to inconspicuously clear the sleep from his voice. 

_”Stiles? Where the hell are you? You didn’t come home last night.”_ Peter could hear the sheriff’s voice clearly through the phone. 

“Yeah, dad. Sorry… I fell asleep at a friend’s house.” Stiles said. He had a pinched look on his face that Peter had come to recognize as the look he got anytime he had to lie to his father. He knew Stiles was going to resent him for giving him yet another reason to lie to his dad. That was going to be a problem. 

_“Well… next time just call first, ok? I worry about you.”_

“I’m sorry, dad. I’ll see you when you get home tonight, okay?” Stiles said, obviously breathing a sigh of relief that his dad hadn’t asked which friend he was staying with. 

_“Sure thing, kid. Love you.”_

“You too, dad. Bye.” Stiles said before hanging up the phone and pulling the top half of his body back onto the bed proper. 

“This can’t work.” Stiles said, staring up at the ceiling. And here came the shit storm. 

“We could make it work.” Peter hedged. 

“Even if I wanted to make it work, how the hell do you figure? I mean, I can’t actually fucking _date_ you, Peter. You’re… I mean, it’s not like I can take you home to meet my father. People probably think you _are_ my father when we we’re together.” 

“Oh come on, I’m not that old and I think I look damn good for my age.” Peter said, stretching his nude body out on the sheets to punctuate his point. He wasn’t disappointed to see the way Stiles’s eyes tracked his movement and his mouth fell open just a little. 

“Not the point,” Stiles said, shaking himself a little, “The point is, this can’t be a normal thing. I appreciate that you’ve been kind of… there for me and you’ve actually been surprisingly pleasant. I mean, the sex part too… that was… yeah. But this has to stop.” Stiles said. He crawled off the bed and started looking for his clothes. Peter sighed. He should have taken him home last night and avoided this situation, but once again his self-control was shit when it came to Stiles. 

“You know, I can barely remember the last time I actually slept with someone like that. “ Peter said idly as Stiles pulled on his underwear and jeans. It was true. He made a point of not remembering things like that. He didn’t let himself dwell on memories of having someone to wake up to, someone to have breakfast with and someone to kiss despite their terrible morning breath. Stiles had slowed down his efforts at getting dressed just a little at Peter’s little revelation. 

“I just want you to get to know me a little. You think you have this clear idea of who I am in your head. Everyone does. All I’m asking for is a chance.” Peter said, sitting up and pulling a sheet over his waist. 

“You haven’t exactly been forthcoming so far.” Stiles pointed out. 

“I know. It’s just not easy. I’m not the same person I was before the fire. My life back then, it’s still a part of me, but I’m trying to figure out who the hell I am _now_. I came back to the world suddenly six years older and with nothing and no one left behind to tell me who I was. I know I don’t want to be the villain everyone sees me as, but I’m not going to pretend I’m not a fucked up person who’s done really fucked up things. I have to believe I can come back from that or what the hell is the point of trying?” Peter said. 

What he didn’t say was, ”If I can’t have _you_ , then what’s the point of trying?” because that might have been a little too intense too soon for Stiles. It was pathetically true, though. Stiles had become the one fixed point in his life, the point around which everything else orbited. He had needed a goal and Stiles was that goal. Without that, he didn’t have much else to build on. He wasn’t going to pretend it was healthy, but it was all he had. He got his vengeance and now he wanted his happy ending, damn it. 

“I… get that, but I can’t promise you anything. I want my friends back. I want to go to college. I want to make my dad happy. I don’t know where you fit into those plans.” Stiles said with a sigh. Peter felt a little dizzy for a moment, like he’d just looked up and realized there was an entire universe surrounding him. Stiles had just given him a definitive list of goals. That was all the hope in the fucking world. If those were the things Stiles wanted, then Peter would just have to make them happen. 

“I understand. Just… give me one promise. One small thing and I’ll be happy with whatever you decide.” Peter said. Stiles narrowed his eyes and looked at him suspiciously. Peter rolled his eyes at the dramatic show of distrust. 

“Just… if I text you, text me back. That’s it. Just keep talking to me. I mean, sadly enough, you _are_ the only person I have to talk to.” Peter said with a sad chuckle. He could actually visibly see Stiles fighting against his urge to feel sorry for him. 

“Fine. I’ll talk to you, but I can’t be with you like… _this_ anymore.” Stiles said with a resigned sigh. Peter nodded solemnly. All told, Peter thought the conversation had gone well. It wasn’t ideal, but it was something. 

“Goddamnit, Peter!” Stiles suddenly yelled. Peter immediately realized why and had to fight the urge to laugh. Stiles was holding up the torn remains of his shirt with an incredulous look on his face. He’d obviously forgotten about it until that moment. 

“Calm down. You can wear one of my shirts.” Peter said. He really was trying not to sound so damn happy about it, but he _really_ liked the idea of Stiles wearing his clothes. 

“Oh my god. You planned this! You creepy bastard!” Stiles said, mouth agape and hands gesturing wildly. At that point, Peter gave up trying to hide his smile and flashed Stiles a toothy grin. 

“You… ugh. Fine. I’m keeping the damn shirt though, so make it a good one.” Stiles said with a sigh, “And that’s the last time you rip my damn clothes off me, so I hope you enjoyed yourself!” He added indignantly. 

“I know. I’m the worst. Keeps me up at night.” Peter said as he pulled his bag toward the edge of the bed to dig through it. He found a decent shirt, just a black v-neck, but it would suit Stiles well. Stiles was a little taller and at least as broad as Peter in the shoulders, but his waist and hips were narrower. All in all, the shirt ended up fitting him pretty well. He looked damn good in it, in fact. 

“You know, you should wear fewer layers more often. You really are gorgeous.” Peter said. He felt a warm rush of possessiveness at the sight of Stiles in his clothes, cloaked in his scent. 

“Don’t even. Flattery is not going to make me forgive you for the shirt. I like my stupid layers, okay?” Stiles grumbled, but his cheeks were just the tiniest bit pink. Peter honestly thought he might fucking die one of these days from how painfully adorable the boy was. 

“I would never presume to flatter you, Stiles. I’m just too honest for my own good, I suppose.” Peter said with a wicked grin. Stiles was glaring down at his shoes determinedly as he tied them, but the corner of his lip quirked up just a little. 

“You know, you still have to drive me home. Getting dressed might be a good idea.” Stiles said. 

“Well you kind of ruined my morning plans so I have to recalibrate. I was going to drag you into the shower with me, but now you’re dressed and I kind like the idea of you smelling like me until you get home so….” Peter trailed off. 

“Oh god. I’m gross! I reek of werewolf jizz, don’t I? Fucking shit. Shit shit shit.” Stiles said, shifting uncomfortably. Apparently he’d been desperate enough to rush out the door that he’d been willing to forego a shower. Peter knew reminding him of the scent thing was a surefire way to get him back on track with the shower idea. Yes, he did want Stiles to smell like him, but if he let Stiles wait until he got home to shower, he’d smell like himself again (mostly) whereas if he showered with Peter, he’d be clean and still smell like Peter… just less like Peter’s come and more like his body wash. 

Relationships were all about compromise. 

“So why don’t you take a quick shower with me? You know, save water, shower with a friend?” Peter said with a mischievous grin, standing up and letting the sheet fall around his feet. He never got tired of the way Stiles looked at him. 

“Come on, one little shower and then we’ll be very chaste text-buddies, I promise.” Peter said, leaning into Stiles’s space a little. Stiles let out an exasperated breath and stripped the shirt back off before shucking his jeans and underwear along with it. Peter did a rather immature fist pump, mostly just to make Stiles laugh. He rolled his eyes, but he did laugh. 

“You’re fucking ridiculous, you know that?” Stiles said. Peter just nodded seriously and ushered Stiles into his bathroom. He got the water running steamy hot and let Stiles get in first before stepping in behind him. He immediately wrapped his arms around Stiles and chased a rivulet of water down his neck with his lips. Stiles leaned back into him and Peter could feel the younger man’s whole body relaxing against him. 

Peter lathered up a washcloth with body wash and started massaging it into Stiles’s shoulders, working his way down his back. Stiles arched his into the contact a little and Peter let out a pleased sigh. It was beautiful the way Stiles was so responsive to his every touch. Even when he was arguing and fighting against whatever this thing they had between them was, his body language never lied. 

Warm hands rubbed lower down Stiles’s body and Peter let a finger slide down the crack of Stiles’s ass. He could feel the way Stiles’s hole was still pliant and slick with his come and his finger slid in easily. Stiles let out a moan and braced a hand against the tile wall. Peter growled and turned Stiles, pressing him face first against the wall. He pinned the boy with a hand over the back of his neck and fucked him with his fingers. 

“God. Damn. It.” Stiles groaned with each thrust of Peter’s fingers. Peter leaned in and nipped at his neck and ears, angling his fingers to hit his prostate just to watch the way Stiles desperately arched his back and stuck his ass out. 

“How am I supposed to give this up? You feel like you were made for me, Stiles.” Peter whispered. Stiles moaned and tried to catch his breath. 

“Deal… with it…” he said, but his smart-ass little comment was swallowed up with his moans as Peter lined up his cock and slowly slid in to the hilt, leftover come and lube easing the way as warm water washed over them. Stiles’s legs shook and his foot slipped on the slick floor of the tub, but Peter caught him and held him steady, rolling his hips and forcing himself deep inside Stiles. 

“Don’t fucking come in me.” Stiles grunted, “I’m already… fuck… gross enough from… stupid… fucking… werewolf jizz.” Peter laughed at the way Stiles’s complaining was cut through with sighs and moans. Only Stiles could find something to complain about while he still had a dick in his ass. 

“Where should I come then, hm? Maybe I should put you on your knees and come all over your pretty face?” Peter growled. Stiles clenched up around him and groaned. He definitely liked that idea, but whether or not he would admit it was another issue entirely. 

Peter reached around Stiles’s hip and started stroking his cock in rhythm with his thrusts. 

“Do you want that? Want to take my load on your face? Want to taste me on your lips, baby?” Peter crooned. Stiles was completely wrecked, but still found the strength to jab at Peter with an elbow for the endearment. Peter just chuckled and stroked a little faster. Stiles was grasping at the slick tiles like he needed something hold on to, bucking his hips as he careened towards his orgasm. 

By the time Stiles was shooting his come across the tiles, Peter had to keep an arm around his waist just to keep him standing. It made it all the easier to pull out and lower him to his knees. Stiles didn’t protest, just looked up at Peter from under damp lashes, those perfect pink lips parted slightly and looking so damn welcoming. Peter started stroking himself and rubbed the warm wet head of his cock against Stiles’s lips. Stiles was holding onto Peter’s thighs and breathing deep, looking up at him expectantly. Peter couldn’t hold back when it was so obvious how badly Stiles wanted it. 

With a deep groan Peter came in thick spurts across Stiles’s face. He forced himself to keep his eyes open and watch as Stiles’s mouth opened further, catching come on his tongue and hungrily swallowing it down. If this was the last time he got to have this for a while, he was sure as hell going to remember every second of it. 

Peter pulled Stiles up to his feet and kissed him, possessive and claiming, as he swiped through the come on Stiles’s cheek with his thumb. 

After he finally let Stiles pull away from the kiss, Peter helped him wash up, this time with no interruptions (a slight case of wandering hands notwithstanding). They scrubbed themselves down quickly, got out of the shower, and got dressed. Peter inwardly preened at having Stiles put on his shirt again. The boy was beginning to smell more like him than his own house after having sex multiple times, showering together, and wearing his clothes. Peter hated the idea of not seeing Stiles in person for a while because he knew he’d eventually stop smelling like him and probably sooner than he would care to think about. 

Before they headed out the door, Peter grabbed Stiles by a belt loop and pulled him into one last kiss. 

“Peter-“ 

“I know, I know. That was the last time, I swear.” Peter said, putting his hands in the air in surrender. Stiles actually looked a little… not quite sad… just a little down. Like maybe he’d actually miss Peter, just a little. 

Peter lived for these small victories. 

They drove to Stiles’s house in relative silence. Normally Stiles would have made him drop him off down the block, but he didn’t argue when Peter drove right up the front of his house. Stiles got out and gave him a sort of half wave before shutting the car door and walking into the house. Peter watched him walk in and went around the block to park. 

In the moment Stiles had opened the car door, Peter had smelled it as clear as day. Derek had been there and very recently too. 

Peter walked back around the block and listened for Stiles. He could hear him shuffling around up in his room, starting up his laptop and humming off key. Peter walked around the front of the house as he picked up the scent and followed it, confident that Stiles was distracted enough not to notice him. He followed Derek’s scent right up to the Stilinskis’ mail box. 

Curiosity well and fully peaked at this point; Peter opened the mailbox and reached inside to find a lone envelope. It was addressed to Stiles with no other identifying information other than the familiar slant of the handwriting and the distinct smell of Derek. Peter pocketed the letter and headed back to his car before Stiles had a chance to peek out his window. 

The moment he climbed back in the car, he tore the letter open and read it. 

_Stiles,  
I want to apologize to you. I’m sorry for cheating on you. I’m sorry for taking you for granted. I’m sorry for the way I talked to you and I’m sorry for implying that you aren’t intelligent or mature enough to make your own decisions. _

_I know things are broken between us in ways that can’t ever be fully fixed, but I really wish you wouldn’t hate me. I don’t wish for shit anymore, but I really wish you wouldn’t hate me. I wish you would come back to the pack. I wish you’d give me another chance to at least be a decent friend to you if nothing else._

_I’m sorry. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I want to try and make things better. If I can’t then I understand, but I have to at least try. I owe you that much._

_-Derek_

Peter sighed and read the letter a couple more times. It wasn’t bad, in all honesty. Clumsy, maybe, but not bad. Peter really hadn’t expected Derek to suck up his pride and pull a stunt like this. He didn’t know if it would make much difference to Stiles, but it was enough to stir up doubt and bring up old feelings. It was enough to be a threat. 

Peter crumpled the letter up and popped out his car lighter. He held it against the paper long enough to let it catch and held it out the window. Just before the fire licked at his fingers, he dropped it and let it burn to ashes. 

Before he drove off, he sent Stiles a text. 

**To: Stiles**  
 _Here’s your fun fact about me for the day. I love shopping for clothes, but I hate shopping for furniture and I resent that you’re making me do this by myself._

After only a few moments, Stiles texted him back. 

**From: Stiles**  
 _ha! have fun, weirdo._

Peter grinned at his phone and drove off toward the mall. 


	10. Stiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles works on mending things that are broken and finds out his friends may have been right all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies in advance for all your conflicted feelings. If it helps, I'm right there with you.

Stiles was in a better mood than he had any right to be considering the shabby ass state of his life as of late. He was going to chalk it up to orgasms because that was as close as he’d get to giving Peter credit for it. Whatever it was, he figured he may as well take advantage of it. He jogged upstairs and turned on his laptop, as was his usual ritual upon coming home. Hell, even if he didn’t have any particular reason to be on it, he turned the thing on the moment he walked in the room. Probably a bad habit what with energy conservation, but he usually ended up using it either way. 

Stiles sat down in front of his desk and hummed to himself as he fished his cellphone out of his pocket to plug it in. He started composing a text to Scott. He figured that was as good a place to start as any. He’d meant what he’d said to Peter and he almost hadn’t realized it until after he’d said it out loud. He wanted his friends back. Assholes or not, they were the only friends he had. Of course, this was going to be a process of baby steps, but he had to start with Scott. Scott was his best friend and had been for what seemed like forever. He wasn’t going to lose him over some stupid Derek and Peter related drama. Bros before were-hos. Not that Stiles was into slut shaming or anything. 

**To: Scott**  
 _hey, can we talk?_

He sent the message and thought about what else he’d said to Peter. He wanted to go to college and he wanted to make his dad happy. The college thing was pretty well set in motion as it was. At this point it was an issue of not getting sidetracked more than anything else. The dad thing though… that might be tougher. Mostly he just wanted to stop lying to him. He supposed he could start by letting his dad in on the recent relationship drama in his life, considering the fact that, as far as his dad knew, he had yet to ever be in a relationship. 

Telling his dad about Derek was one thing. Telling his dad he had a brief but intense fling with a thirty seven year old? That was a horse of a different color, but he kinda felt like he could tell him an edited up version and still be sharing more about his life with his dad than he had in at least a year. It seemed really stupid, but if he couldn’t tell his dad about werewolves he felt like there should at least be one thing he didn’t lie about. A shitty break up? His dad could handle that. 

**To: Dad**  
 _hey, think you can handle a father-son bonding session tonight?_  
He thought for a minute and then sent another follow up text to his dad.

_btw, pizza is a thing that can happen if you want_

As soon as he sent the second text to his dad, he got a response from Scott. 

**From: Scott**  
 _YES. can I come over?_

**To: Scott**  
 _YES. BUT. I smell like peter so please don’t freak out, explain more when you get here_

Scott didn’t reply. Stiles hoped it was because he was on his way and not because he’d changed his mind due to the Peter thing. Speak of the devil….

**From: Peter**  
 _Here’s your fun fact about me for the day. I love shopping for clothes, but I hate shopping for furniture and I resent that you’re making me do this by myself._

**To: Peter**  
 _ha! have fun, weirdo._

Stiles stretched his jaw out to shake the stupid smile off his face before Scott showed up. Jesus, what the hell was wrong with him. Peter being nice was all well and good, but this nonsense smiling shit needed to stop yesterday. He’d done the right thing by cutting off the physical side of his relationship with Peter. He could handle the sort-of-cute texts. That was his official limit when it came to Peter. He just had to stick by that and he’d be just fine. 

Rather than give himself one more awkward thing to explain to Scott, Stiles decided to change his shirt. He took Peter’s shirt off and folded it up in his drawer. He was aware that he was playing right into Peter’s hand by not washing the damn thing, but so what? He just happened to like how it smelled. Peter used good fabric softener…. Yeah. 

Fuck. Fuckity fuck. 

Stiles pulled on a random graphic tee from a basket of clean clothes he had yet to fold and put away and put it on. He supposed that spending time with Peter had the intended effect of distracting him from the large Derek shaped hole in his life, but he hadn’t really expected to enjoy the guy’s company beyond the few instances of deliciously dirty sex. 

Goddamn. He was really going to miss that part. There wasn’t going to be any more of that, though. Things were getting way too comfortable and Peter’s last text only served to reinforce that fact. Stiles had been about _this_ close to helping the guy pick out furniture. It was like Derek was commitment-phobic and Peter was a commitment-philiac. If Derek shared his uncle’s possessive nature he’d been a lot more discrete about it, that much was certain. The damn shirt thing…. 

Ugh. Stiles shook his head clear of thoughts of the Hales and went downstairs to find something to eat. He grabbed his cellphone off the charger since he still hadn’t heard back from Scott or his dad. 

Feeling a bit lazy and self-indulgent, Stiles ended up making an obscenely large bowl of frosted flakes, despite the fact that he knew they’d be gross mush by the time he got halfway through eating them. His mom used to give him hell for that when she’d find a big bowl half full of soggy cereal mush and milk left on the table or (even worse) set on the coffee table in the living room. One time she’d punished him by only buying the “boring” cereal for a whole month. 

Plain cheerios were garbage and no one would convince Stiles otherwise. 

Stiles supposed that he still did things like eat irresponsible amounts of breakfast cereal just because it reminded him of her. Anyway, it didn’t seem fair for him to stop doing that kind of crap now that _he_ was the one that had to pick up after himself. 

Stiles was shaken out of his reminiscing by the text alert going off on his phone and the simultaneous thump of someone coming in through the window upstairs. 

“You could have come through the door, dude.” Stiles said before Scott even made it down the stairs, knowing that he’d hear. He had to wonder if Scott made a point of going through his bedroom just to check up on things up there, ya know, scent-wise. It was kind of creepy and way pushy, so Stiles decided to assume the best of Scott; that he just liked climbing through windows unnecessarily. 

Stiles looked down at his phone to read the text his dad sent him. 

**From: Dad**  
 _worried now. Get pepperoni. be home at eight._

Short and to the point as always. Stiles shot him a quick text back to tell him not worry and confirm that they could get pepperoni pizza… just this once, before turning his attention to Scott. 

“So….” Stiles said awkwardly, brushing his palms across his thighs and nodding.

“You texted me so you go first.” Scott said, sitting down across from Stiles at the dining room table. It felt oddly formal sitting like that. 

“Well… Look, I don’t want us to be fighting over this shit anymore. I just wanted to apologize for snapping off on you so hard. I know you weren’t trying to fucking… betray me or whatever. I just felt kinda overwhelmed and I really needed someone on my side, ya know?” Stiles said, fiddling with a stray thread at the bottom of his shirt. 

“Well I’m sorry if it seemed like I didn’t have your back. I was just trying to be the mediator, but I guess I kind of suck at it. It’s just… you have a really bad habit when you get pissed off of never giving anyone time to cool down. You have to have it out right then and there, but sometimes people just need a little time to process shit and cool down. That’s honestly all I wanted.” Scott said. 

Stiles cringed. That had always been a problem with him. He never could sit by patiently while other people cooled off and thought things through. His brain just didn’t flow with that logic. He needed to get things done and dealt with because his mind never cooled down, it just dwelled and over-focused, and blew things way out of proportion as time went on. 

“Look, I get why everyone’s upset. I’m not going to try and defend Peter, but I gotta wonder why we had him in the pack if he’s basically an untouchable? I know it was just revenge sex at first. It was petty and vengeful and totally fucked up, but after that… I needed someone and he was actually there for me. He actually wanted to talk to me and… I don’t know how to explain it, but if he had an ulterior motive I don’t know what it was. I mean, I think he might have just actually enjoyed my company, ya know? I mean, yeah, it’s Peter, but it was… kinda nice.” Stiles said, cringing a little. Scott seemed to be trying his best to absorb what Stiles was saying without jumping to immediate judgment and bless him for that.

“Stiles, I swear they weren’t just being dicks to be dicks. There’s a reason no one trusts him. He may actually like you and he may even be a decent person from time to time, but there’s still a whole lot wrong with the guy. He’s kind of made it impossible to trust him.” Scott said. 

“I know, but it didn’t seem like everyone was worried about me at the time, it seemed like they were just mad at me. Like I was the one that cheated on Derek and chased him away.” Stiles said, feeling weirdly tense and frustrated as he tried to explain himself. 

“I know. It was fucked up. They know it’s not your fault that Derek left. Hell, he said so himself. Isaac was freaking out because Derek was gone and Boyd just needed time to think on things. Just talk to them, dude.” Scott said. Stiles noticed he’d left out Lydia and Jackson, but Lydia was on an entirely different level in this argument. Lydia, out of all of them, had the most right to be upset and he wasn’t looking forward to facing her, honestly. 

“I’m gonna talk to them, I am. I just wanted to let you know that I saw Peter again last night, but I’m not going to anymore. See him, like in person, I mean. I agreed to still talk to him, but that’s it. I mean, it’s not like I can legitimately date the guy, ya know? Letting things go on any longer would be stupid right?” Stiles asked. He hated that he had made it a question without really meaning to. It shouldn’t be a question, he should be sure. Letting things go on longer would be stupid. Period, no question mark. Pointless. Period. No question mark.  
Right?

“Yeah, dude. I mean, that’s probably the best thing you can do.” Scott said. Stiles tried his best to nod resolutely. 

“So, since we’re talking… I kinda fucked up earlier. Pretty damn bad.” Scott said with a grim look. 

“Shit, what happened?” Stiles asked. He knew that look. That was not a good look. 

“Ok, well… first I have to tell you something and I know I’m a shitty excuse of a best friend for not telling you this before, but Isaac and I are… were kind of a thing?” Scott said. There went those rogue question marks again. Apparently they were contagious. 

“Oh… um… I want to say yay or something, but I’m waiting for you to explain the ‘were’ part. I’m guessing that’s got something to do with you fucking up?” Stiles asked. Scott nodded and he looked so much like a kicked puppy that Stiles wanted to smush his adorable sad little face. 

“I guess after whatever happened between you and Derek last night he went and ran with Isaac to cool off. When I got there the next morning they were sleeping together all sweaty and in their underwear and…” Scott said making vaguely disturbing hand gestures, his eyes wide. 

“And?” 

“And I kind of assumed the worst. I said some fucking terrible shit, dude. I basically accused Derek of Alpha raping Isaac and accused Isaac of cheating with Derek… Derek and I fought and… he had to make me submit before I’d even listen.” Scott explained. Stiles winced. He couldn’t imagine how Scott felt about that. 

“I just… with how Derek’s been lately and what he did with you. I just overreacted. _Majorly_ overreacted. I think I really fucking hurt Isaac’s feelings dude.” Scott said, sinking down lower in his seat. 

“Damn, man. I’m sorry. You guys will work it out, though. Just don’t pull a Stiles, I guess. Give Isaac some time and then apologize and explain yourself. Come on, buck up. There may be hope for us, yet.” Stiles said, leaning across the table to give Scott a manly pat on the shoulder. Scott gave him a weak smile and nodded. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m planning on telling my dad about Derek and stuff tonight. Well the part where we were together for a minute, I mean. I’m trying this new slightly more honest thing on for a try so we’ll see how that goes.” Stiles said, stirring the bowl of mushy cornflakes and milk idly. 

“Err… good luck?” Scott said with a crooked smile. Stiles just laughed and got up to clean out his bowl. 

“Well hey, I gotta pick up my mom from work soon so I’m gonna head out, but you should get ahold of me later and tell me how the thing with your dad goes.” Scott said, standing up and walking over to Stiles to give him a one armed hug. 

“If I’m alive, I’ll let you know.” Stiles said with a weak laugh. He walked Scott out the front door (to remind him of its existence) and went to make himself comfortable in front of the television. He’d been sorely missing some good mind-numbing entertainment in his summer as of late. He turned on re-runs of Jersey Shore and as he watched Sammy and Ron throw crap at each other his phone went off in his pocket. 

**From: Peter**  
 _My apartment is going to look like a therapist’s waiting room. I need a drink._

Stiles choked out a laugh and then silenced himself, as though anyone were there to judge him for it.

**To: Peter**  
 _you’re starting to make me glad i have no plans of going back there_

Stiles hit send and then immediately felt like a dick. He had to take a second to remind himself that it was Peter and it really wasn’t that big a deal. It wasn’t like he was honestly going hurt the guy’s feelings. 

He tried not to feel guilty when an immediate reply wasn’t forthcoming. It just seemed strange considering how freakishly prompt Peter’s replies had been in the past. He felt stupid at how relieved he was when the text alert finally went off again. 

**From: Peter**  
 _So you weren’t glad before?_

Trust Peter to find the positive spin. 

**To: Peter**  
 _I guess not. not glad, just being realistic._

**From: Peter**  
 _I suppose that makes sense._

Stiles didn’t reply. He refused to feel guilty about the Peter situation. He didn’t have the emotional room to spare, honestly. He could handle the feeling guilty part if it weren’t for the fact that he felt a little disappointed too… like maybe it wouldn’t have been the worst thing ever to help Peter pick out a stupid couch and maybe even sit on it with him after it was delivered. Like maybe it wouldn’t be so incredibly awful to just go watch a movie at Peter’s place and if he sat right next to him and maybe let him put an arm around his shoulder…

Wow. This was a bigger problem than he realized. What the fuck was it with Stiles and Hales? Older, emotionally messed up, essentially unobtainable guys that could do nothing but bad news in the end were apparently really his type. 

\--

The talk with his father didn’t go half as badly as he expected. Apparently his father was a lot more forgiving of Stiles’s secret relationship now that it was over. He told his dad about Derek (“Hale? Derek Hale? Jesus, Stiles….”) and about his short lived rebound fling (that time he didn’t specify a name, just told his dad that it was no big deal and wasn’t going anywhere). His dad responded with a speech about being careful of not letting someone older and more experienced take advantage of him and even awkwardly did a redux of the safe sex speech. 

After pushing past the expected awkward half lectures and after having eaten the better part of a large pepperoni pizza, his dad turned to sympathizing. He started telling Stiles a story about the time he caught his prom date kissing another guy outside the gym when Stiles stopped him. 

“I thought you went to prom with mom.” Stiles said. His dad froze and his ears turned red. Stiles’s jaw dropped.

“Mom? _Mom_ was the cheating prom date?” Stiles asked, incredulously. 

“It was just a kiss. I mean, it was high school, Stiles. People aren’t perfect, not even the ones that come pretty close.” His dad said and for a moment he had that wistful look in his eyes that he got when he started reminiscing about Stiles’s mom. Apparently his mom’s teenage indiscretion wasn’t nearly enough to tarnish his father’s view of her so Stiles decided he wouldn’t let it tarnish his either. After all, it was high school and it was just a kiss. No one was perfect. 

A stolen kiss at prom was a lot different than what Derek had done, though. Just because his dad had forgiven his mom… They were different. They were true love. Destined to be and all that, he was sure of it. It wasn’t the same. He… felt pretty strongly for Derek, but Derek hadn’t felt the same way. If he had… It didn’t matter. Derek didn’t feel the same way and that was the difference. He’d even said as much himself when he’d told Stiles he probably would have broken up with him anyway. 

Stiles really felt better after having talked to his dad, if for no other reason than the fact that it was nice to be honest with him for a change. In some ways though, he felt a lot worse. Talking about the Derek situation had him playing the ‘what if’ game again. What if he hadn’t run off with Peter? What if he’d stayed and talked things out with Derek? Derek apparently hadn’t wanted to be with Stiles anymore either way, but maybe they could have ended things without making everything such a mess. 

When it came down to it, it would have been messy anyway he cut it. Peter was an added complication, but even without him things would have been difficult. Stiles would still have been angry. Their friends may have still taken sides and even if they picked Stiles’s side in that case, it still would have torn their little pack apart one way or another. 

Stiles tried to remind himself that it really didn’t help anything to sit there stressing over the things that might have been. He still had the very real present to contend with and a lot more work to do if he ever wanted his life to get even close to normal again. With that in mind, Stiles headed up to his room after dinner and sat down on his bed to send Isaac a text since he was the next stop on Stiles’s mending relationships tour.

**To: Isaac**  
 _hey, do you think we could maybe talk soon?_

Rather than texting back, Isaac actually called him. Apparently Isaac interpreted ‘talking soon’ as code for talking right then.

“Hey.” Stiles said as he answered the phone.

_Hey, um… I was actually gonna ask if we could talk myself, but things got kinda crazy….”_

“I heard. I talked to scott earlier. Sorry my best friend’s an idiot.” 

_”Yeah, well sorry I’ve been kind of an idiot. We shouldn’t have ganged up on you like that.”_

Stiles’s heart warmed at Isaac’s apology and he felt a little flutter of hope. Maybe he wouldn’t be pack again and maybe he and Derek would never be alright, but it would be nice if he could salvage a couple friendships out of this big damn shipwreck. 

“I uh… I get where you guys were coming from, I guess. Everything just… sucked. Still sucks actually.” Stiles said with a sigh. 

_“Yeah. I know the feeling. But at least Derek’s trying, ya know?”_

“Um, I don’t know if ripping me a new one at the diner exactly counts as trying, dude.” Stiles said. Apparently Isaac was still viewing Derek’s actions through some rather rosy lenses. 

_“No, I meant the letter.”_

“Letter?” Stiles asked. His heart rate picked up so fast that he was afraid Isaac would hear it through the phone. 

_Yeah, we swung by earlier and he dropped it in your mailbox. Go check, dude.”_ Isaac said. Stiles told him to hold on and ran downstairs with his cellphone still clutched in his hands. 

“Hey dad, did you check the mail today?” Stiles asked his dad, who was sitting at the dining room table, dinner plates having been replaced with case files and a cup of coffee he most definitely shouldn’t have been drinking. 

“S’over on the counter. Didn’t notice anything for you, though.” His dad said, only barely turning his attention away from the sheet of paper he was poring over. 

Stiles rummaged through the bills and ads stacked on the counter only to be disappointed. 

“Nothing. Hold on, maybe it’s still out in the mailbox.” Stiles said into his cellphone. Isaac hummed and went back to waiting quietly on the line. Stiles jogged out into the front yard and checked the box to find it completely empty. 

“Dude, there’s nothing here.” Stiles said. 

_”There should be. I saw him drop it off myself.”_

“Maybe he changed his mind and took it back?” Stiles suggested. 

_”Nope. He was with me the rest of the day. We were looking at apartments, actually.”_ Stiles wanted to comment on the apartment thing, but he was still a little caught up in the mystery of the missing letter. Suddenly it dawned on him and his stomach dropped. 

“Peter.” He had been there to drop Stiles off earlier. No doubt he hadn’t missed the fact that Derek had been there not to long before. Knowing Peter and his possessive ass, he probably investigated and if he found a letter Derek had left… 

_”What about Peter?”_ Isaac asked, sounding a little more tense than he had moments before. 

“What did the letter say, Isaac?” Stiles asked, uncomfortable with how tight his voice sounded. He was gripping his cellphone so tight he was afraid it was going to snap between his fingers. 

_“It’s pretty private, I mean, maybe you should just ask Derek?”_

“Isaac!” Stiles snapped in frustration.

_“Look, I don’t know exactly, but it was his apology. If you want to know more than that, you’d have to ask him.”_

Stiles was stunned into silence. Derek had actually apologized. In letter form even. Like an actual hand written letter? Stiles’s heart ached at the thought and he couldn’t help feeling like some kind of regency heroine because who the hell wrote letters anymore? And Peter… it had to be Peter. He, what? Took it? Read it? Destroyed it? 

“Isaac, I’ve gotta go. Can you just… just tell Derek something happened to the letter and I didn’t get it, okay? Just let him know I never got to read it.” He said. He didn’t know what the letter said, but he didn’t want Derek to think he’d read it and ignored it. He was still hurt and angry, but he would respond one way or the other if he’d read the letter. 

Stiles had been _waiting_ for a proper apology from Derek. Even if nothing else worked out between them, he’d just wanted that much. Apparently he’d gotten it (in LETTER form for fuck’s sake) and Peter had taken that away from him. Probably never even planned to tell him about it. Stiles knew he shouldn’t have expected anything better, but if he was being honest about it he felt fucking hurt and disappointed and more than a little stupid, yet again. He shot out a final text before collapsing into bed. 

**To: Peter**  
 _I changed my mind. can I see you tomorrow? Need to talk to you._

**From: Peter**  
 _Of course._

Stiles didn’t know why he had to confront Peter in person, but he did. Maybe he just had to see for himself. He wanted to see if all things he’d thought he saw in Peter were really there or if he’d been fooling himself. He wanted to see if there was even the tiniest hint of remorse in Peter’s face when he confronted him or if he’d see nothing but the cold manipulative monster everyone else saw.

Stiles lay down on his bed and tried not to think about the big fat helping of “I told you so” he had coming to him.


	11. Derek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's life is surprisingly boring and quiet with everyone pissed at each other and therefore out of his hair. He starts working on some big plans and Peter's meddling turns out to be a lot more helpful than hurtful.

Derek was beginning to hate the apartment idea with all his heart. There were no yards, shared walls, security deposits, and rules against pets. Not that Derek had a pet, of course, but he still didn’t like the idea of being told he couldn’t or having to pay extra for the privilege. The depot was an abandoned warehouse, but at least he had privacy and plenty of space there. Apparently squatting had given him a certain amount of freedom that he’d become accustomed to. 

At least the apartment hunt had temporarily distracted Isaac from dwelling on Scott and his monumental fuck up. He’d even smiled a little at the way Derek bristled as an apartment manager discussed guest parking spaces. Derek had no clue how to cheer someone up, but he had done his best to try considering Isaac had done the same for him. 

Of course, most of Derek’s experience in cheering someone up came from things his parents had done when he was a kid, but Isaac didn’t seem to mind being taken out for ice cream after they’d left yet another frazzled looking apartment manager in their wake. Derek knew that if Stiles were around he’d probably tease him about his weird paternal streak toward Isaac, but Stiles wasn’t there and Derek was trying really hard not to dwell on the letter waiting in Stiles’s mail box. 

“Maybe we should try renting a house instead of an apartment?” Isaac suggested as they dug into their ice cream. Derek’s brow creased a little further.

“Still too many damn rules.” Derek grumbled. 

“Are you still on about that pet thing? You realize your betas don’t count as pets, right?” Isaac said with a chuckle. Derek gave him an exasperated look. 

“Hey, at least we’d have a little more privacy and a yard.” Isaac added with a shrug. Derek sighed. 

“Maybe. Maybe I should just… buy a place. Somewhere with lots of space. Somewhere like…” 

“Like your old house?” Isaac tried. Derek sort of stared at him dumbly. He hadn’t realized that he’d been mentally sizing every place they’d been against his childhood home. Hell, maybe that was why he’d been so reluctant to actually get a proper place. 

What he really wanted was to go home. He wanted his big house nestled in amongst the trees of the preserve. He wanted to walk out his front door and not be able to see a neighbor in any direction for miles. He wanted to be able to have his whole pack stay with him on full moons (this was assuming he had a “whole pack” to speak of when the time came) without worrying where they’d park or if the cops would get called when they got too rowdy. 

“Look, don’t snap on me for suggesting this, but have you ever thought about, you know, rebuilding?” Isaac said. Derek knew that it wasn’t rebuilding Isaac was nervous about suggesting, it was the tearing down they’d need to do first. 

“I… Hmm….” Derek thought about it. He supposed it made a lot of sense. It was what he really wanted and he had the money to do it. Technically it was what a good portion of that money had always been meant for. He knew that rebuilding would mean moving on, but he couldn’t keep protecting a burnt pile of ash like a junkyard dog with a bone. Everything changed and there wasn’t shit Derek could do to stop it. He may as well embrace it. 

Isaac’s face relaxed into a careful grin. He seemed to sense what Derek was thinking because he didn’t push the matter any further. Isaac had a real knack for knowing when to let a subject rest. Unlike some people who never stopped pushing. And there went thoughts of Stiles invading his brain again. He wondered if he’d read the letter yet. 

Derek and Isaac headed to the library so they could use the computers. They’d done this plenty of times before when it wasn’t convenient to just go borrow someone else’s for a while. With Stiles and Scott essentially out of commission for the moment, they were relegated to the paper smell and shuffling quiet of the library. 

The librarian at the desk recognized them well enough now that she handed over the computer sign-up sheet without a word. She’d stopped glaring at them around the time she realized they weren’t there to google up the pornographies or whatever nefarious things she thought the youths of today did on the library computers. 

Isaac occupied himself with a game and Derek started doing research on what he’d have to do to start rebuilding his house. He asked the librarian for a piece of paper and a pencil, both of which she handed over with narrowed eyes like she was sure he couldn’t be trusted with those two simple items. Derek went and sat back down at the computer and started taking down a few names and numbers, writing down a list of steps he needed to take. All the while, Isaac sat nearby, his presence reassuring as Derek essentially planned to tear down the only home he’d ever known. 

Derek wasn’t as scared as he thought he’d be. In fact, he was kind of thriving on the symbolism of it. Taking something that seemed irredeemable and building something new out of the remains (he kept trying to avoid the logic that they weren’t building something _out_ of the remains, they were going to build on top of the place they used to be). Maybe he was being a little indulgent there, but he’d take what he could get it. “Whatever helps ya sleep at night” had become his new life motto. 

Whatever he was doing, Derek at least felt better to be _doing_ something at all. He needed to keep moving. He wasn’t running away this time, but he still had to be moving. Work on a house, work on his pack, and just keep… going. 

Something had randomly occurred to Derek as he went through his day. It seemed so insignificant and he found it so strange that he’d never noticed before. It was just that his life was a lot less… fun, lately. He’d never actually realized he’d been having any fun before and if you’d have asked him, he would have denied it vehemently, but there it was. He hadn’t even realized “fun” was something he even cared about anymore. Apparently his bitter asshole persona had fooled even himself, but yes, things had been a lot more fun with Stiles. Well, Stiles when he was kind of happy at least, before Derek fucked things up. 

Derek had already realized that had been a big part of his problem. He had flat out refused to be happy until he’d basically taken the option away from himself. Now he was suddenly looking back and going, “Oh. I could have had that,” and wondering how he’d never realized it before. 

Derek was trying not to be that loser that built his ex up in his head to be some mystical perfect unicorn, but Stiles was fun and smart and gave as good as he got and Derek probably could have loved him if he’d given himself half a chance. He wasn’t sure what he’d label his feelings for Stiles. He just knew that, hatever they were, they were strong enough to still be a problem. 

Derek didn’t understand hy he couldn’t just let it go when Stiles was giving him every reason to. He didn’t know why he still couldn’t seem to let Stiles go after he’d done what should have been unforgiveable… but then Derek had done the unforgiveable first and he didn’t really want to sit and mentally size up the things they’d done to each other. Arguably Stiles had done more to himself than he’d done to Derek and only after Derek had hurt him first. At this point he just hoped Stiles would accept his apology. He’d have to leave the Peter situation to Stiles to figure out at this point because he was pretty sure anything he had to say would only end up working in Peter’s favor whether he intended it to or not. 

After the library, Isaac and Derek swung by a sandwich place and headed back to the depot. Derek tried not to pay too much attention to the fact that Isaac was checking his phone like clockwork, as though his werewolf senses might suddenly fail just in time to miss the sound of Scott calling or texting, because it was only making Derek want to punch Scott more and he was pretty sure he’d already done enough interfering when it came to that situation. 

Derek wanted to suggest another run, but Isaac insisted he wanted to stay in that night so they ended up sitting cross legged at either end of Derek’s mattress playing cards. Derek was just starting to long for a television when Isaac’s phone went off. He dropped his cards, apparently not caring that he was leaving them on display for Derek, and opened up the text. 

For a second he looked disappointed, but then he shrugged and dialed, motioning to Derek to be quiet. Because apparently Derek was a regular chatterbox and needed to be reminded to be quiet while someone was on the phone. He rolled his eyes hard, but Isaac just raised an eyebrow at him to show how very unimpressed he was. 

_”Hey.”_

Derek’s heart raced when he heard the voice on the other end of the line. He glared daggers at Isaac and considered leaving. He knew Stiles wouldn’t want him listening in on his phone call, but Derek still didn’t move. As Isaac and Stiles exchanged apologies, Derek’s glare softened a little. 

Then his own name was brought up and he really couldn’t have said what expression was on his face at that point, but Isaac was trying to smile encouragingly at first as he reminded Stiles that Derek was at least _trying_. Derek continued to listen; his fists clenching without his permission as Isaac and Stiles slowly worked out that Derek’s letter had gone missing. He ended up thinking of the possibility of Peter absconding with the letter long before Stiles obviously came to that same conclusion as he muttered his name into the phone.

As always, Derek’s initial instinct was to find Peter and tear him a series of new assholes that would hopefully end in his second and permanent death. He’d been on edge all day as he waited and wondered if Stiles had read his damn letter, only to find that Peter had once again interfered. He tried to convince himself that it was a good thing. Maybe now Stiles would finally realize that Peter was still the same Peter he’d hated only a couple weeks before. How could he not after that stunt? Peter was just playing with Stiles and working him over till he got what he wanted and now Stiles was facing the evidence head on. 

The funny thing was that Derek couldn’t help thinking that intercepting mail was pretty bush league for Peter. He’d come to expect better from him when it came to schemes and backstabbing. Maybe he was slipping in his old age or maybe dying once had made him go soft. All that mattered was that he had finally slipped up. Derek was still pissed off, but if he had to sacrifice his letter to get Peter away from Stiles, then so be it. 

Isaac shrugged at Derek helplessly as Stiles insisted he be told what the letter said. Derek shrugged back and gestured angrily for Isaac to just say something and Isaac told Stiles that it was an apology and to ask Derek beyond that. Derek relaxed a little at that and stopped making angry gestures at Isaac. 

_“Isaac, I’ve gotta go. Can you just… just tell Derek something happened to the letter and I didn’t get it, okay? Just let him know I never got to read it.”_

Derek didn’t want to be interpreting with his hopeful ears, but he could swear it sounded like Stiles was actually interested in knowing what the letter had said. Derek had stood up before Isaac had even ended the call, but he honestly wasn’t sure why. 

“So….” Isaac said, watching Derek stand there like an idiot, glowering at nothing. 

“So, what the fuck do I do now?” Derek said, sitting back down because he was starting to feel fucking stupid standing there. 

“Well… he’s obviously open to your apology. You just have to… actually apologize now? I guess you could call or text or something. Sorry, but I’m pretty sure I’m tapped out on good ideas after the letter thing.” Isaac said. Derek figured that was fair. Isaac kinda had his own shit to deal with and he’d done plenty of hand holding for Derek so far. 

“Shit. Okay. Fucking Peter.” Derek growled, but he pulled out his cellphone and started texting before he could talk himself out of it. 

**To: Stiles Stilinski**  
 _hey Isaac said you didn’t get my letter. Can we talk and I can just tell you what it said?_

Before he actually hit send Isaac yelled for him to stop. 

“Wait! Give it like ten minutes, and then send it. You don’t want him to realize you were sitting right here next to me while he was on the phone.” Isaac said. 

Derek had the sudden realization that they were all teenage girls because he was honestly about to look at the clock and wait exactly ten fucking minutes to send the message. He rolled his eyes and just hit send. He fucking lived with Isaac. It wasn’t that weird for him to talk to him so soon after Stiles had called. 

Derek hadn’t actually expected a text back, at least not that soon, but he supposed Stiles must have had his phone close at hand. 

**From: Stiles Stilinski**  
 _Call or in person?_

Derek froze. He really wasn’t sure what would be worse. In person was… in person. Over the phone was safer, but left a lot of room for misunderstandings. They didn’t really need any more of those. 

**To: Stiles Stilinski**  
 _in person ok?_

**From: Stiles Stilnski**  
 _yeah. I’ll text you tomorrow so we can meet up._

**To: Stiles Stilinski**  
 _Ok. Talk to you tomorrow then._

Derek sat his phone down and stared at the wall for a moment. 

“You okay?” Isaac asked.

“I’m meeting with Stiles tomorrow to talk. In person.” Derek said flatly.

“That’s… good, right?” Isaac asked. 

“I honestly don’t know. Either it goes well or it turns into another crazy fucking screaming match.” 

“Umm… so don’t scream at him?” Isaac suggested, somewhat sarcastically. Derek glared. 

“If it were that fucking simple-“ 

“Just make it that simple! Look, you’re not going there to argue, right? You’re just going to give him your apology in person. That’s all. Stop making things more complicated than they need to be.” Isaac said. 

Derek didn’t feel like admitting that Isaac might actually be making sense so he just glared some more and collapsed on his bed. 

“I’m fucking sick of playing cards, Isaac.” 

“Yeah. Me too.” 

“I never thought I’d say this, but I miss those assholes.” Derek said. It was true. He always bitched about wanting peace and quiet when the pack had been invading his personal space on the daily. Now Derek’s pack was scattered to the winds and he actually missed the chaos of it. 

“Hm.” Isaac agreed sleepily. He had leaned over and lay down on his side at some point, but the moment he started to drift off he suddenly jumped up as he realized he was about to fall asleep on Derek’s bed yet again. Derek felt a little stab of irritation and whipped out his phone one last time. 

**To: Scott McCall**  
 _just fucking apologize to Isaac already. He’s been staring at his phone all day, you ass._

Derek hit send. He didn’t really give a shit if Scott got pissed at him for butting in. He could wallow in his own misery all day, but apparently he drew the line at wallowing in Isaac’s too. He wasn’t Scott’s biggest fan, but Isaac liked him and he wanted Isaac to be happy. Of course, that thought set Stiles’s voice off in his head again calling him “Papa Wolf”. 

Christ, it was like being haunted by an annoying little imp. An annoying little imp with a fucked up impulse drive and no goddamn filter and a mean streak as wide as he was slender. 

Derek missed the ever-loving shit out of him. 

Of course, it was really easy to miss him now that there wasn’t any real relationship to worry about. It was easy to think of being with Stiles in abstract past and future terms. It was when he actually had to man up and act on his brilliant little bits of self-discovery that shit went terribly wrong and he froze up. 

Derek crawled into bed that night promising himself that he couldn’t possibly fuck things up any worse than he already had. Sadly, the thought was actually reassuring enough that he had no problem falling asleep for the first time in a while. He supposed it was true that if you set your standards low enough you can never be disappointed.


	12. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old memories drag up bad dreams and Peter's best laid plans finally fall to shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some warnings for this chapter: Derek’s age in this fic implies some extra dark things about Kate (i.e. Derek’s age when she was with him back then being much younger than most people put it as). 
> 
> This chapter mentions the death of a pregnant woman and deals with the loss of an unborn child so if that’s a sensitive subject, please read carefully.

Peter had never actually furnished a place on his own before. His whole life he’d always lived with other people. In college he’d lived in a dorm room that didn’t exactly need much of anything. Then a shared house that was furnished entirely in milk crates, second hand rugs, and furniture from thrift stores and off the side of the road. 

After he moved in with the woman he’d go on to marry, she gleefully took to decorating their first little apartment. From the moment they’d looked at the place she was picturing everything just the way she wanted it with a big grin and endless chatter about the things she wanted to do with the place. She’d acted like their tiny one bedroom apartment was a damn palace, but Peter had been to her old place and he really hadn’t blamed her. Before moving in with him, Lisa had been crashing on a couch at an apartment she shared with her cousin and her cousin’s incredibly shift drug dealer boyfriend. 

Peter was more than happy to let her go crazy and she spent weeks carefully picking through flea markets and thrift stores with her keen eyes catching on anything unique and interesting. They’d ended up with a snot green crushed velvet sofa that made Peter’s head hurt just looking at it, but for her it was love. Then there were the little red feng shui mirrors, the hand dyed tapestry from the head shop, and the freakishly heavy chest she’d found for their coffee table. Slowly and surely she’d created something special out of that little apartment and when they’d moved up to a house, she’d done the same there.

Right up to the nursery they never got the chance to use. No one ever seemed to remember that Lisa had been pregnant during the fire. Anytime afterwards when he’d hear or see mention of the eight that died in that fire, he’d mentally correct it to nine, but he never said anything out loud. He didn’t even think Derek remembered. Laura probably did, but he’d made her death number ten and therefore had no right to complain that he was the only one left to mourn his almost-daughter. 

From what Peter understood, Lisa’s parents had taken care of clearing out their apartment when it was clear that Peter wouldn’t be leaving the hospital anytime in the near future. Sometimes he’d still get angry when he realized it wasn’t there. The little home they’d made had been disassembled years before while he was still trapped in that hospital, in that burnt wreck of a body. He hadn’t even been there for Lisa’s funeral. 

Lisa’s parents had kept their things in a storage unit for a while, but they soon realized what everyone else already knew. There was no point in saving things for a dead man. They packed away the personal items, but most of it was sold and forgotten. They’d tracked Laura down and gave her the money and the boxes and from that point on Peter was no longer their problem. Just a sad memory attached to the even sadder memory of the pretty daughter they’d once had and the possibility of a little granddaughter they never got to meet. 

After that, Peter just didn’t have it in him to try. Not like that. Even if he did, he didn’t think it would come close. He didn’t have that feeling of building a home that Lisa had back then. He was just… putting furniture in a place. 

He’d gone to the big furniture showroom out next to the mall and stuck resolutely to the basics. He got a brown leather couch and love seat, simple wooden coffee table, a little bistro dining room set, a heavy wooden frame to finally put his mattress on, and a dresser. Even picking those things out had given him what he could have sworn was severe psychic pain. He hadn’t had a real headache in a long time, but standing in that fucking store and arranging delivery had come pretty close. 

Peter was nothing if not an expert delegator so he did everything in his power to get most of the work done by people that weren’t him. By the time all was said and done, his apartment was starting to look like someone could actually live in it and he hadn’t even made anyone cry. For Peter, it was the very definition of success. 

The rest of it came easy. Picking out a television and buying kitchen implements was simple enough. Those were things he’d always known how to do. If it had been up to Lisa, they never would have had a television and he’d been one hell of a cook at one time in his life and the kitchen had always been his domain. He couldn’t resist splurging when it came to his pots and pans and knives, in particular. A good set of knives was fundamental. 

By the end of the day, Peter was exhausted and determined to avoid seeing the inside of another department store for at least a month. He was satisfied with the end result, though, and that was what mattered. He went into his bedroom and crawled into his bed, barefoot and still in his jeans. The bed still smelled like Stiles and Peter couldn’t resist stretching out and gathering the sheets up to his nose to breathe the scent in. He felt his cock stiffen as he remembered the way Stiles’s warm wet mouth felt around his fingers. 

Peter was lazily rubbing himself through his pants when his phone startled him out of his fantasy. Stiles was texting him asking to see him in person the next day. Peter wondered if Stiles had been lying in bed thinking the same kind of thoughts that had Peter hard and leaking in his jeans. He smiled and texted back and went back to his fantasy, this time thinking about all the things he wanted to do when he saw Stiles the next day. 

Peter kicked off his jeans and underwear and grabbed the bottle of lube, the same lube he’d used to open Stiles up the night before. He slicked up his cock and started stroking lazily. He tried to remember the way Stiles tasted with perfect clarity and ended up with a mouthful of his sheet, trying to suck the taste of Stiles through the soft Egyptian cotton. He groaned and remembered the way Stiles gasped when Peter finally slid a finger against his hole, so surprised to find him there yet again. 

Peter imagined licking Stiles open slowly, teasing him with his tongue until Stiles was sobbing for more. He wanted to spend a whole day just fucking him with his tongue, just to see if he could make him come like that. He wanted to see if Stiles would beg him for his fingers, his cock, anything. He wanted to work Stiles over until he was coming dry and then, only then, would he finally slide his cock inside and fuck the poor overstimulated and oversensitive body until he was coming, deep inside. He wanted to make Stiles beg and promise that he was Peter’s, only Peter’s. 

“Fuck…” Peter groaned into the empty room as he came, spilling over his knuckles. He slowly stroked himself through the last shuddering pulses and let out a heavy sigh. He climbed out of bed and took a shower and changed his sheets, fairly confident he’d have another chance to dirty them up again when he saw Stiles the next day.

By the next morning, Peter regretted it. Had he slept surrounded by the scent of Stiles he might have dreamt of him instead. Peter hadn’t woken up shaking like that in a good long while. He had dreamt he was running through the preserve, nearly feral with pain and desperate to make it stop when he found Laura. He dreamt of tearing into her with such clarity that he was sure he could smell the blood when he woke up. Then he’d looked down at what should have been Laura’s torn and broken body only to find Lisa staring up at him with dead empty eyes. 

In the dream, he ran from Lisa’s body and found himself at the Hale house. He almost cried in relief to find it whole and unburned, thinking that maybe none of it had been real, but then he saw Derek waiting for him at the front porch. It was Derek as he’d been at fourteen, skinny little thing that he was back then. He was smeared with soot and ash, tears leaving clean tracks down his face. 

“I killed them.” The boy cried. Peter moved forward to comfort him, the way he might have back then had he not been half burnt and unconscious. Derek eyes snapped up and locked onto Peter, red and filled with fury. 

“One of us has to finish the job.” Derek had said and then he lunged just before Peter jolted awake, trembling and shaken. 

Derek’s words wouldn’t leave his head. _”One of us has to finish the job.”_ He couldn’t help thinking that Kate Argent must have been cackling her glee from whatever pit in hell she’d landed in. Peter may have taken her out, but she was still winning. He’d already done her the favor of taking out Laura and he’d been too far gone to even realize the irony. He’d turned his quest for vengeance against her into a tool towards her own ends. 

Peter growled and tried to shake himself out of the dark mood he was slipping into. He didn’t need thoughts of Laura and Kate and even Lisa haunting him when he saw Stiles later. He had to focus on the present. He had to focus on the new life he was trying to build around his new mate. He’d have a pack again and this time nothing was going to tear it apart. Not Derek and not the goddamned ghost of Kate Argent. 

Peter woke up and made himself a cup of coffee with his new coffee maker. He toasted himself a bagel and then spent the better part of the morning unpacking things he’d bought the day before and putting them away. Stiles texted him at about eleven and let him know he’d be there in a couple hours. 

Peter grinned because Stiles’s timing gave him the perfect opportunity to put his new kitchen to the test. He didn’t know if Stiles was planning to eat lunch before he came, but he decided to surprise him anyway and make something for the both of them. He had yet to see the boy turn down a meal and if he knew Stiles, and he did, there was no way in hell he’d turn down a grilled cheese with bacon and sweet potato fries. Hell, that kind of a meal was probably as good as foreplay for Stiles. 

Peter had just pulled Stiles’s sandwich off the griddle when he heard the unmistakable rumble of the old blue jeep in the apartment complex’s parking lot. He listened as Stiles made his way up to the apartment and then knocked on the door, as though Peter hadn’t heard him coming from a block away. 

The moment Peter opened the door, he realized something was off. A dark mood surrounded Stiles like an aura. Peter almost flinched at the sharp look the boy gave him when he met his eyes. 

“Stiles? What’s wrong?” Peter asked carefully. Stiles took a deep breath and closed his eyes as though he needed the moment to center himself. 

“Can I come in?” he asked. Peter nodded and waved him inside. 

“I made us some lunch, in case you were hungry. I was looking for an excuse to do some cooking, honestly.” Peter said, doing his best to act normal despite Stiles’s strange behavior. Stiles looked over the meal Peter had set out with a furrowed brow and a frown that would have looked more at home on Derek’s face than his own. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Peter finally asked. 

“I know about the letter, Peter.” Stiles said, finally turning away from the table to meet Peter’s eyes. 

“Letter?” Peter asked. He’d spoken before his mind could catch up with him. Suddenly he remembered the letter from Derek he’d found the morning before. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten, but it had seemed such a small thing at the time. 

“Don’t lie to me. Just… stop lying to me.” Stiles said, his hands twitching at his sides. Peter’s mind raced through all the ways he could spin this situation. How he hadn’t thought up a contingency plan for this exact situation was beyond him. It had been so long since he’d been caught unaware like this. Not since the night they set him on fire and Derek ripped his throat out. 

Normally he was prepared for any possibility, his quick mind working several steps ahead, but not this time. This time he’d acted without a single thought. He’d destroyed the letter with no worry that it might come back to bite him in the ass. Stiles had been alone in every sense of the word, isolated from his friends and his pack. How he found out about the letter, and that quickly too, Peter couldn’t imagine. 

“I don’t what you want me to say, Stiles.” Peter said, resigning himself to telling the truth because at this point it was all he could think to do. 

“I don’t know, Peter. I really don’t. I shouldn’t care because I shouldn’t be surprised, but I guess I’m just as naïve and gullible as everyone thought I was.” Stiles said and Peter flinched inwardly. This was exactly what he _didn’t_ want. He wanted to be the one thought always made Stiles feel good about himself. He wanted to be the one that never doubted Stiles and never underestimated him, but now he’d all but proved Derek right in everything he’d said at the diner. 

“You’re not, Stiles. This one thing doesn’t change anything else I said to you. Nothing I said to you was a lie.” Peter said. Stiles just shook his head. 

“You’re wrong. You said you wouldn’t hurt me, remember?” Stiles said. Peter wanted to say something to that, but he couldn’t. It was just a letter, he wanted to say, but he knew that wasn’t how Stiles saw it.

“You said you cared about me, but if you actually cared about me you would have let me have my apology. I _deserved_ that fucking apology!” Stiles shouted. 

“That apology was bullshit!” Peter finally snapped. Stiles glared at him, his dark eyes fierce. 

“I don’t care. What did you think would happen if I read that letter? Did you think I was going to immediately forgive Derek and run back into his arms? Fuck, even if that were the case, you had no right! You can’t just twist every situation to suit you.” 

“I just wanted an actual chance with you, Stiles. Before Derek-“ 

“No, you had a chance with me. What you wanted was assured victory. Because that’s what I am, right? I’m the prize and you have to win me so Derek can’t have me, right? This isn’t about me, it’s about beating him.” 

“You know that’s complete bullshit, “ Peter said, stepping forward only to have Stiles take a step back, “I wanted you long before you were his.” 

“So what the hell is it with you then? Why does everything have to be a fucking game with you? It’s like you don’t know how to be anything but manipulative. Why can’t you just let someone feel something for you without feeling like you have to trick them into it?” Stiles asked. Peter was frozen to the spot because, for once, he didn’t have an answer. 

“You’re acting as though I ever had a fucking chance. You know I’ve had to fight for this from the start.” 

“Bullshit! I did give you a fucking chance! I didn’t want to, but I did. If I’d just told you to fuck off in the first place, things would have been a lot easier, but I didn’t. I didn’t do it that time or the next and yeah, I wasn’t just going to run into your arms, but considering the circumstances I think I gave you a better chance than you deserved.” Stiles said.

“Were you giving me a chance? Or were you just using me to upset Derek? Or maybe you were just using me to make yourself feel better? Because it seems like the only times you came to me were times when Derek had just don’t something to upset you.” Peter said. He could tell by Stiles’s face that he’d hit pretty damn close to the truth there. 

 

“Yeah, that’s how it started. I’ll admit that. That’s the excuse I used to make myself feel better about wanting to spend time with a fucking murderer, but the sad truth was that I actually liked being with you. I actually entertained the thought of…. No, doesn’t fucking matter.” 

“What? Stiles, what?” Peter asked frantically, moving forward. He wanted to shake that sad, disappointed look right off Stiles’s face. 

“No. It doesn’t matter. You’re not… I thought about what it would be like to just have something normal with you, but that’s not who you are. My friends wouldn’t talk to me and I’m starting to think you wouldn’t want them to either way because they might be a threat to you. I’d never be able to talk to Derek again, even if I did forgive him. You’d probably be one of those guys that would want to go through my phone just to see who I was talking to, right? I mean, you fucking went through my mail, Peter! What kind of insecure asshole does that?”

“That’s not true. I want you to be happy, that’s all. I shouldn’t have taken the damn letter, ok? I just… I wasn’t thinking. I know you deserved your apology and I didn’t have the right to take that away from you.” Peter said. He was a little disturbed by the picture Stiles was painting of him. He knew he was possessive, but he’d never really thought of himself as some kind of controlling paranoid asshole. He just needed to know Stiles was his. He just needed to be sure and then he could have relaxed, he was sure of it. 

“Well it turns out you didn’t. I’m meeting Derek later to get my apology in person.” Stiles said. Peter couldn’t help it. His eyes flashed just for a moment before he could reign himself in. 

“Yeah, I thought so.” Stiles said as he went to walk towards the door. Peter caught him by the wrist and didn’t miss the sudden heady scent of fear in the air when Stiles stopped to look at him. He let go of his wrist and took half a step back.

“Just… don’t go back to him. Please.” Peter said, dropping his hands. 

“That’s just it, Peter. You still think this is about Derek, but you’re the only one standing in your way.” He said and this time when he went to leave, Peter didn’t stop him. 

The door slammed shut behind Stiles and Peter turned to look at the two plates set out on the table. With a sweep of his arm he sent the plates shattering to the floor and listened until he could hear the jeep speeding off in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little explanation as to Peter dreaming of Derek saying he killed them all; I kind of think Derek would have talked to Peter while he was in the coma and that he confessed his involvement with Kate and his subsequent guilt to Peter because he couldn't tell anyone else. How Peter subconsciously or even consciously lets that affect the way he treats Derek is up to interpretation.


	13. Stiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles talks to Derek and Lydia. Peter starts a texting campaign because that's where he's at right now. That's... that's how far he's fallen, people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, please forgive the lateness of this chapter! Just when I decide three updates a week is totally possible and reasonable, shit hitteth the fan. My cat deleted the chapter (for real), then my computer died, then the supernatural season finale punched me in the feelings. BUT I got a new laptop and we're back on track. 
> 
> ALSO: Welcome to knowing my end game because unless I suck really bad at hinting, it should be pretty clear where this is going at this point.

Stiles stopped on the stairs and closed his eyes for a moment at the sound of glass shattering. He once threw a self-igniting Molotov cocktail at Peter with every intention of letting it shatter and burn, but somehow that conversation seemed harder. Walking into find Peter looking hopeful and nervous with lunch waiting for him had almost taken all the wind out of Stiles's sails. He wanted to walk in and scream and rant and have Peter rail right back at him. He would have handled it better had Peter wolfed out and growled at him because he was a little less afraid of the animal side of Peter than the vulnerable side that caught him off guard and distorted everything he thought he knew about him, little though that was.

It seemed that Stiles had given up the last vestiges of his denial. He admitted to Peter that he'd thought about it, about them becoming something more. He finally admitted just how far Peter had gotten under his skin because the truth was, he didn't want to walk away from him. He wanted to go up there and eat sweet potato fries and tease Peter about his furniture choices, but he couldn't just write Peter's behavior off. He couldn't just trade a distant unfaithful Hale for a possessive and manipulative one. 

After Derek... he just wanted someone he could trust. Why he ever thought that might be Peter, he had no idea, but he had to accept the fact that he had kind of wanted it to be. When he told Peter he had given him a chance, he hadn't been lying. Maybe it was the rebound effect or maybe Stiles had turned Peter into a big shiny red self-destruct button that he couldn't resist pressing, but either way he'd opened himself up to Peter and now he didn't really know how to close the door.

Stiles hopped into his jeep and clutched the wheel, watching the door to the apartment building like Peter might walk out at any minute. He wasn't sure if he'd be upset or relieved if he did. He figured the best answer was to drive away. After all, he still had to talk to Derek. He'd had an idea of what he was going to say to Derek, but now everything felt turned on its head. He wasn't going to lie to Derek about Peter. There had been enough lies between all of them by that point.

Stiles drove to the preserve and parked at the entrance before texting Derek.

**To: Derek**   
_I'm out at the preserve, want to meet me there to talk?_

**From: Derek**   
_Meet me at the house, wanted to tell you something about it anyway_

Stiles had to wonder what the hell Derek's old house had to do with anything, but he couldn't guess for the life of him. He took the road that led through the trees to park outside the Hale house. Derek was already there waiting. It was likely he'd already been there when Stiles had texted him. 

Stiles climbed out of the car and went to sit next to Derek on the remains of a step. Derek's nostrils flared and Stiles could see him doing his best to not say anything about the lingering smell of Peter.

“Look, I know you can smell him on me and I'm gonna explain the whole fucked up situation to you, but can you just... can you just tell me whatever you were going to say first? Please?” Stiles said. He wanted to hear Derek's apology before the conversation went sour, and it very well might once Peter was brought up. Derek nodded, but Stiles could see the tension in his jaw that refused to relax. 

“Ok. I... I just really fucking wish you'd gotten that letter.” Derek said with a sort of forced chuckle, “I'm not good at this, but I just wanted to apologize. For everything. Including the way I talked to you afterward. I want to fix things, if I can. I want you back in the pack, at least. Everything's completely gone to shit and it's just... I'm tired of making myself miserable and dragging everyone else along with me, I guess.” Derek said, barely looking up as he talked like he was afraid he'd lose steam if he did. 

“Me too. I mean, I'm sorry too for what it's worth. I didn't handle things well, but I really didn't expect everything to get so... muddy. I don't really know what the hell I'm doing anymore. I'm mad at you, but I miss you. I miss everyone. I miss being pack, if I... I wasn't sure I ever really was, but I think I still want to be.” 

“You were. I don't think I've been doing this right, being the Alpha. I think maybe we all need to figure out what being a pack actually means because its not like dating someone. You can't just break up and get back together. You're pack and that's all. You belong and things are falling apart without you and I feel like... maybe we can do better. I just want a second chance. For all of us.” Derek said. Stiles tried not to wonder if there was a second meaning to Derek's mention of a second chance beyond friendship or pack-ship(a word Stiles was fairly certain he'd just made up) because it made him feel inexplicably guilty and sort of depressed. 

“I think... I think I would like that, but I think I need to talk to you about Peter first.” Stiles said, cringing. Derek's jaw tensed again and he was resolutely avoiding eye contact, but he gestured for Stiles to go on. 

“Well I guess you kind of owe me an 'I told you so' for the letter, right?” Stiles said with an awkward half smile. Derek lifted an eyebrow that expressed how very not in the mood he was to be handing out 'I told you so's. Stiles just continued on. 

“I can't really blame the thing with Peter on anyone else. I mean, it started because I was upset and alone and angry, but it... I think it was more than that. Almost more than that, at least. Obviously whatever it was... it's over, but it was... a thing that happened. I can't just pretend it wasn't, you know? I saw him earlier, talked to him about the letter and he was... he seemed like it actually hurt him when I told him he missed his chance. I know he's fucked and maybe I'm an idiot, but I don't think he was faking it. “ 

“No, I don't think he was faking it. I think he was pissed because he lost.” Derek snapped before restraining himself again.

“Look, I would have thought so too, but... that's not the point. I just wanted to point out that while he's a douchebag, he didn't really _do_ anything worthy of getting kicked out of the pack. I mean, all he did was hook up with me, but that was my fault too. I just think maybe you should give him a break. If you could accept him enough to take him back in the pack after he resurrected than you can accept this too, right?” 

“You don't think this is exactly what he wanted?” Derek said.

“What? Derek, come on. He's smart, but he's not that fucking smart. He didn't see this coming. He thought I was going to see him today to be with him. He made me grilled cheese with bacon for fuck's sake, he had no clue I'd found out about the letter and now that he's fucked it up he doesn't have shit. He was willing to leave the pack and not fight with you because he thought he had me, now he doesn't have anything. I just... fuck, I don't know! I don't know what my fucking weakness is with him, but I don't think I'm the only one.” Stiles said giving Derek a significant look. Derek sighed and stopped grinding his teeth down to splinters.

“You know, I still remember how he was before the fire. I mean, he was still fucking weird, but he was... different. He was my uncle. I keep thinking I've got him back, but it's never really him. First he came out of the coma, but you saw how that turned out. Now he's back again and I... I can't keep letting him back in just so he can remind me how fucking badly I've ruined everything.” 

“You? Jesus, Derek. You blame yourself for how Peter is?” Stiles said, a little gobsmacked at the sudden realization. For Derek, it wasn't just about hating Peter. It was about hating himself, hating Kate, and hating the things that had happened to his family. It all came down to guilt with Derek. Nothing bad could exist or happen in his sphere of influence without him attributing it to himself.

“You don't know the whole story, Stiles.” Derek said. 

“I know you were, what? Fifteen?”

“Fourteen.” 

“For fuck's sake Derek! Nothing a fourteen year old could do would make them responsible for the shit that happened to you guys. You know who's to blame and she's dead and gone. So now you've gotta decide if you're willing to take Peter, broken pieces and all. You can't do shit about the past, but you've still got a future.” Stiles said. Derek closed his eyes for a moment and just breathed and Stiles, for once, waited quietly. 

“Fuck.” Derek finally said and Stiles let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

“You know, I'm gonna rebuild the house.” Derek said, tilting his head back towards charred ruins behind them. 

“Seems appropriate.” Stiles said, nodding. Derek half smiled at that and Stiles felt a tension in him release in a way he hadn't felt in days. His phone started buzzing from his pocket and he took a second to look at them since he and Derek seemed to be at a natural pause in the conversation.

 **From: Peter**   
_I've decided I'm not giving up. You've been the main goal of all my evil plans for awhile now and I can't just let you go._

**To: Peter**   
_Your evil plans suck._

**From: Peter**   
_I know. Guess I have to try and do this the old fashioned non-evil hard way, right?_   
_Fun fact: my favorite color is red (and yes it was before I was the Alpha too)._

Stile sighed and bit his lip. Why the hell did Peter have to make this so hard? Derek tried not to look interested in the texts and failed. Stiles rolled his eyes and showed Derek the texts. Derek actually snorted and it was hard to tell if it was out of anger or humor or both. Hell, Derek probably wasn't sure. 

**To: Peter**   
_Just stop, Peter. I told you it wasn't going to happen before the letter so why would it happen now?_

**From: Peter**   
_You've forgiven me for worse than destroying a letter and you told me there was a chance. I know you think I'm creepy and possessive, but you told me there was a chance and I'm taking it._

“You actually believe him?” Derek said with an air of exhaustion. 

“I don't know. No? A little? Does it matter? I'm not going to be with him. I just want you to give him the same chance you're giving me, that's all. Will you at least talk to him? I don't know, maybe you'll find out you're right and I'm wrong after all, but just talk to him?” Stiles said, putting his phone away. 

“I can't make any promises, Stiles. I don't... if he tries something I'm not going to hesitate to put him down, do you understand? He's still family and I don't want to have to kill him, but you already know that I will if I have to.” Derek said, standing up. 

“I get it.” Stiles said, standing up to match Derek's height. He really hoped he wouldn't end up regretting this. He believed that Derek could and would kill Peter and if the worst happened it would be Stiles that was responsible this time. He'd be the one to blame for Peter's death and Derek's fresh new dose of guilt, so he had to hope that this wouldn't be as big of a shit storm as it had the potential to be. 

“If I'm talking to Peter, then you have to keep up your end of this deal. Come back to the pack, talk to everyone.” Derek said. Stiles nodded. He'd already talked to Isaac and Scott. He just needed to work things out with Boyd, Lydia, and Jackson. A couple of those were a lot easier said than done, but if Derek could deal with Peter then Stiles sure as hell could handle Lydia. 

They parted awkwardly, completely unsure of how to be with each other now. Stiles had almost lamely offered a fist-bump, but the look on Derek's face told him not to push it. He had the distinct feeling that their conversation hadn't exactly gone the way Derek had wanted, but that maybe it went better in some ways. 

The truth was, they worked well together and whatever it was they had between them was amazing for a little while, but that wasn't who they were anymore and Stiles thought Derek might realize that too. In the end, there was no going back. They could only go forward. They'd almost destroyed everything once. If they got back together and things didn't work out, Stiles didn't think they'd come back from it a second time. 

More than that, Stiles wasn't going to lie and say that he wouldn't think of Peter. It was one thing to nurse his unhealthy affection for the older man while he was alone, but he wouldn't do while he was with someone else. Derek may have cheated, but he deserved better than that and if he'd ever let himself, he might actually find it. Stiles just wasn't sure he could say the same for himself. 

–

Stiles paced the floor nervously, ignoring the exasperated looks he was getting from Scott. Boyd had been easy. He'd basically shrugged and stoically exchanged apologies with Stiles before going back to whatever it was he was doing. Hell, just thinking about it brought a tear of happiness to Stiles's eye.

This would not be as easy. 

Lydia had agreed to meet with him at the depot after endless texts and some cajoling by the others. Now she was late and Stiles was convinced she wouldn't show at all. Jackson wasn't going to bother coming because he'd already said his peace and no one had been too surprised there. He explained that he couldn't care less about Stiles and Peter as long as Lydia was okay, but that if he had to sit through the two of them arguing he'd likely snap and rip someone's head off. More than likely Stiles. 

“I think she's here.” Scott said. He stood up and walked toward the exit, “Good luck, dude.” 

“Thanks.” Stiles said with an eye roll. Still, he was kind of bracing himself. Lydia was a force to be reckoned with, but more than that, she was the last piece that needed to fall in place if he wanted his friends back. His friendship with her had surprised him. He was sure he'd never get over not being able to have her the way Jackson had her, but somewhere along the way he'd found she made a much better friend than a fantasy. He didn't want to lose that now. 

Lydia walked into the depot like she owned it. She looked incredible, of course. She wasn't going to come without her armor. Strawberry blonde hair perfectly curled and everything in place from her manicure to her heels. She crossed her arms and blinked at Stiles expectantly, glossed lips pursed tight. Stiles sighed and wondered if he'd be able to get anywhere with her. 

“Lydia, is there any chance of us working this out?” he said. She sucked her teeth and took a breath.

“I don't know, Stiles.” Lydia said, stepping forward, “I can't tell you what to do with your life, but I've decided I can at least make sure you know what the fuck you're doing.” 

“I'm not doing anything, Lydia.” Stiles said. She just scoffed.

“Fine, but you should know what you're not doing. You should know what you let in your bed with you.” 

“I know-”

“NO. You obviously do not.” Lydia snapped, her eyes fierce. She stepped closer and untucked her blouse from her skirt. 

“What are you-” 

“Look! Do you see this, Stiles?” Lydia said, lifting her shirt to expose a scar on her side. Stiles flinched back a little. He hadn't seen the scar and maybe he'd let himself forget on purpose, but there it was. Raised pinkish scar tissue stretching across soft pale skin, the perfect impression of Peter's jaws. 

“Not pretty is it? For all the vitamin E oil in the world, I still get to look at this in the mirror everyday. Remember, Stiles? Remember the formal? Do you have any idea how much it hurts? Being bitten like that?” 

“Lydia I'm-” 

“I'm not done. You're going to listen to me. I'm not arguing with you, I'm just reminding you. Whatever you do after that is none of my business.” Lydia said. Stiles closed his mouth and listened.

“You were there that night Stiles. You stayed in the hospital with me and waited for me to wake up, but you weren't there when he was inside my mind. I thought I was going insane. The things he made me see... the things he made me feel. You can't even imagine. My own mind didn't belong to me anymore because he could twist it anyway he wanted and make me think whatever he needed me to think. I can't ever forgive that and I won't ever forget it. If you want to be with him, fine, but I'm not going to let you pretend he's something he isn't. If I can't forget it, I don't see why everyone else should be able to, do you understand?” Lydia said. Stiles blinked back tears and nodded quietly. She went to walk away, but he stopped her.

“Wait. You had your turn. Don't I get one too?” Lydia narrowed her eyes, but she turned to face him. 

“When I was fifteen I drove a car for the first time. One of my dad's deputies, his name was Marco Santos, he let me drive his car. Just around the parking lot, but man, it was awesome.” Stiles said. Lydia looked confused but stayed quiet. 

“Another one of my dad's deputies, Carl Havers, he used to pick me up from school after my mom died and my dad was barely functioning. He always took me out for ice cream if I'd start crying and talking about my mom because he didn't know what else to do, even if it turned me into a sticky ball of hyperactive energy afterwards. Then there was-” 

“Stiles, please get to your point!” Lydia said, finally exasperated enough to snap. 

“All the people I'm telling you about, all of them were people Jackson killed that night in the sheriff's department. All people I've known since I was a kid. You weren't there. You didn't walk over the dead bodies in the hallway or watch their families sob at their funerals. I was.” 

“He was-”

“I know, he was the kanima and he couldn't help it, right? But it was still him. I don't hold that against him and I sure as hell don't hold it against you. I know, Peter's not the same situation and I don't expect you to forgive him or forget, but you have to realize that Peter wasn't exactly in his right mind either. Hell, he was actually dead through some of it. I'm giving him another chance to come back from that because I believe he can. If I can't believe than then I don't know how we can function. Derek and Isaac and Erica and Boyd tried to kill you once, remember that? Jackson and I helped kill Peter, Derek actually finished the job. Scott almost killed me. Allison went psycho werewolf hunter for awhile and nearly killed Boyd and Erica. We're a bunch of fucked up damaged motherfuckers and some of are worse than others, but I've got to believe we can move on, okay? I just.. have to.” Stiles said. Lydia took in a deep breath through her nose and then closed her eyes for a moment. 

“You move on if you can, Stiles, but not everyone is as optimistic as you.” Lydia said. Stiles snorted. He wasn't sure when or how he'd become the optimistic one. 

“So what does this mean for us?” Stiles asked, carefully.

“I guess this means we move on. With eyes wide open.” Lydia said with a shrug. She turned and walked away, leaving Stiles feeling a little shaken and like he still had a lot of work to do when it came to their friendship. At least it was a start. 

Stiles sat down on what appeared to be the back seat torn out of a mini-van. He opened his phone and scrolled through the random texts Peter had been sending him at regular intervals. They were equally disturbing and adorable. He kept meaning to delete them, but he never did.

**From: Peter**   
_My first pet was a goldfish. I secretly took it with us on vacation and let it out in the ocean. My mom found out and she didn't have the heart to tell me it couldn't survive in the saltwater._

_I don't enjoy showers as much without you in them._

_I still wanted to be the Alpha, but I don't see the point without you. I wanted to find a way to do it without killing Derek if that helps._

_I secretly love Lady Gaga and you can't tell anyone because telling someone would mean acknowledging that you've been reading my messages. So there._

_My wife's name was Lisa. She would have liked you. She was also skilled in the art of being simultaneously loveable and annoying._

_I want to take you to the beach. ___

___How creepy would it be if I just tried bribing you? I have video games and candy. I resent you for making me crack these jokes at my own expense just because you're not here to do it for me._ _ _

__Stiles huffed out a breath and went to delete the messages for what had to be the tenth time._ _

__And for the tenth time, he didn't._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I think it's pretty clear now, right? To those of you that have sat through 12 long wishy washy chapters full of teasing and mystery: I salute you. To those of you who aren't gonna be getting your endgame of choice: I'm sorry! I hope you keep reading! You've come so far, don't give up on me now! lol


	14. Derek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rebuilding of both the pack and the Hale house continue on and Derek maybe finally grows up a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take two! Okay, I'm so glad I took the time to redo this chapter because I feel like I can actually be happy with this. That last chapter basically sucked for Derek and I do want Derek to keep growing as a character as an Alpha so... yeah :) Danny is still around, just not as a potential love interest because I feel like Derek's relationship with his pack is what's most important for him right now. Also, endgame has not been changed with the rewrite of this chapter. This one's a little longer than the others because it covers a time period of about two months so pay attention to the skips. 
> 
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> 
> Also, I'm of the school of thought that Peter is Talia's brother and that either her husband took her last name or he didn't but the kids were still Hales :) I just think that's excellent, so yeah. 
> 
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> WARNING: There's a very brief mention of a past instance of self harm on Derek's part so please read with caution if that's a trigger. 
> 
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> 
> Thank you for being patient with me on this chapter!

The talk with Stiles left Derek feeling totally tilted off his axis. He was grateful that Stiles was willing to come back to the pack, but he hadn't been expecting Stiles to encourage him to let Peter back in as well. After the letter... well, he just thought things would go a little differently. Very differently, really. He wasn't going to pretend he wasn't disappointed, but something about that conversation went a long way to matching the things Derek had built up in his mind to reality. 

Every second of it hurt, but all he had to do was look, _really_ look, and he could see that things had changed between them. There was something different about the way Stiles talked to him, the way he looked at him. Hell, even the way he angled his body towards Derek was a little different. Something had shifted between them and there was no amount of letter writing or apologizing that could shift it back. Knowing Stiles was coming back, though, went a surprisingly long way toward easing the sting. Derek knew there were a lot of saying and cliches about being friends with your ex, but this was his _pack_. This had to mean more than that. 

Derek still wanted Stiles. Logic and reason couldn't really erase that. Not even the lingering scent of Peter on Stiles's skin could erase that. It just seemed that, after all they'd been through, his desire to have him as pack outweighed his other desires. 

What they had, short lived and flawed as it was, may not have been meant to last, but it was definitely meant to be. Derek needed Stiles just as much as he always had, just... maybe not in his bed or in his arms. Not anymore. He wouldn't deny that it hurt and he wouldn't deny that he still felt furious and a little disgusted when he thought of Peter, but for once his desire to see his pack whole and together again outweighed his pride. 

After Stiles left, Derek ran. He couldn't have counted the miles and the only sense of time he had was the fade from sunlight to dusk to dark. He ran until his whole body was buzzing and his mind had been wiped down to the most base instincts and urges. He found the same clearing he and Isaac had laid down in the last time he needed to run off an encounter with Stiles. Once again he found himself staring up at the stars, but this time he found himself thinking of his family.

Most of the time when Derek thought of his family, he couldn't look past the more immediate pain of their loss. It seemed that every memory of them was tainted with ash and fire and guilt... so much fucking guilt. He remembers holding a hot lighter to his flesh, just to try and understand what they'd been through. Laura caught him at it and beat the ever loving hell out of him, frantic and crying the whole time until they were both exhausted and completely out of tears to cry.

Thinking farther back, thinking about exactly what it was he was missing, was somehow harder. He thought about his mother. She was quiet and stubborn and protective and had a temper that was a hell of a thing to behold. Laura may have been her heir apparent, but anyone that met the Hale family said that Derek took after her the most. Laura was the good one, never half as rebellious and surly as Derek had been. She took her responsibilities seriously, always aching for her mother's approval and determined to earn the pack's respect. Peter... Peter was a fixture at their home for as long as Derek could remember. He loved to pick on Derek and teased him for being too serious and grouchy, but he always made up for the teasing when it came time to train. He never held back and taught Derek all the things his mom would have said he wasn't ready for, even if it led to Talia putting the Alpha smack down on him later. 

Derek and his mom clashed quite a bit simply by merit of their overly similar personalities and Laura, naturally, got the lion's share of the Alpha's attention as the oldest child and future Alpha. Derek would have been lying if he'd said it didn't bother him, but Peter always seemed to do his best to make up for it. Derek had to figure that had a little something to do with the fact that he knew Derek's pain all too well, being the younger sibling of the Alpha-to-be (or in Peter's case, the current Alpha). 

Despite the fact that his uncle was kind of strange and constantly teased him, Derek didn't mind the extra attention from him too much. In no small part because he may have had a little bit of a kid crush on Peter's wife. He had to laugh a little at the irony of that now, but back then he was such a little dork around his Aunt Lisa, rushing to cater to her every whim and generally making a fool out of himself, much to his sister's delight.

Meanwhile, Derek had met another older woman at the public pool one day. She made him nervous and excited him all at the same time. He'd barely believed it when she gave him her number and said to call her anytime. He'd kept his distance though, convinced that it was too good to be true. 

The day he realized he could hear a second heartbeat from his aunt's belly was the day he finally called Kate Argent, hands shaking and palms sweating, because he was jealous and sad and stupid and he wanted a pretty woman to look at him the way Aunt Lisa looked at Peter. It was that childish stupidity and selfishness that took Aunt Lisa away, took that little extra heartbeat away.... took his Uncle Peter away to for that matter.

Sometimes Derek would try to understand why Peter came out of the situation the way he did. Derek was by no means healthy and stable, but he managed. Then again, he hadn't actually been there when the fire had happened. He hadn't heard the screams and smelled the flesh of his loved ones burning alive. He couldn't imagine being there and still not being able to save _any_ of them. Then he'd been pulled out barely alive and in a kind of pain that Derek still couldn't imagine, no matter how many times he held his hand over the tiny flickering flame of a lighter. He supposed if there were a surefire way to break a man, then what Peter had been through was _it_. 

Derek knew it wasn't the best idea to let guilt and shame and sadness direct yet another one of his decisions, but he decided to give Peter one last chance to be a part of his pack. He knew Peter was more unstable and unpredictable as an omega anyway, but he also knew welcoming him back to the pack would mean nothing if Peter himself wasn't on board and willing to cooperate. Regardless of what Stiles said or asked of him, if Peter wasn't willing to put forth some energy into making things right then Derek wasn't under any obligation to force him. He'd give Peter one more chance, but he wasn't going to make a fool of himself again. 

Derek dialed Peter's number and steeled himself before hitting send. The phone rang on and on long enough that Derek was sure it would switch over to voicemail at any minute, but at the last second Peter answered.

 _”You know, it's not very mature to gloat, Derek.”_ Peter said by way of greeting. 

“I'm not calling you to gloat.” 

_”So is this one of your threatening phone calls then, or were you just planning on inviting me to tea?”_ Peter said, his voice dripping with sarcasm and irritation. 

“Your last guess is closest, believe it or not.” Derek said, admittedly slightly amused by the snort of disbelief that came from his usually fairly dignified uncle. Jesus, Stiles must have really rubbed off on him. Derek's stomach turned and he re-routed his train of thought as quick as he could manage. 

“I called to talk to you about joining the pack again.” Derek said. 

_”Of course you do! And why not? You've got what you want now, right? You won, Derek. I don't need to come back just to see you flaunt it in my face. You have your mate back. I'm sure your pack will be more than fine without me in it.”_ Peter said. He sounded so damn bitter that Derek found himself wrinkling his nose in distaste just from the sound of it. The thought crossed his mind that Stiles had it wrong when he christened _him_ Sourwolf because _damn_ were those some sour fucking grapes. 

“For fuck's sake, Peter. Untwist your goddamn panties and listen to me for ten seconds. I didn't _win_ anything. Stiles is going to come back to the pack, but we're not getting back together. “ Derek said. He waited and heard silence over the line for a good few seconds before he realized Peter wasn't going to say anything. 

“Stiles was actually the one that convinced me to try and talk to you. He thinks you deserve another chance to be with the pack.” Derek added. 

_”And what do_ you _think?”_

“I think he has too much faith in you, but... you're still family. If I give you another chance, that's it. Do you understand? No more fucking scheming and manipulating. If you come back you do it right this time. We were never really much of a pack before. You're one of the only ones who actually knows what a real pack is like. If you come back, you're going to help me make things better. So don't just do this for Stiles. If he's the only reason you have for coming back, don't bother.” Derek said. There was another moment of silence from Peter's end of the line. Derek gave him a moment to weigh his options, wondering how seriously Peter would actually take him. With a soft sigh, Peter finally responded. 

_”Fine.”_

“Good. Pack meeting this Saturday, at the old house. You should probably know, I'm planning on rebuilding it.” 

_”Well then, aren't you ambitious? Good. That place has been an eyesore for long enough”_ Peter said. Derek made a small noise of agreement and decided that the conversation had gone on exactly long enough. They'd said what they needed to say and managed to do so without resorting to threats and insults. If they pushed for much more than that, things were likely to turn south. Better to quit while they were ahead. 

“See you Saturday then.” Derek said. 

_”Looks like it.”_ Peter said and they both hung up. Derek rubbed his temples and wondered if he was doing the right thing. There was still every chance that he'd see Peter and his desire to curb stomp him would overcome his desire to mend his pack and maintain a relationship with his last surviving relative. He supposed they'd have to cross that bridge when they came to it. 

–

The following days until Saturday passed in a strange surreal blur. Derek only talked to Stiles through the occasional awkward text, but it was enough to let Derek know that he and Lydia had come to some kind of ceasefire. Derek knew that particular issue was far from fully settled, but he'd have to give it time. Lydia may have been willing to put up with Stiles and even Peter to a certain degree, but she never let anything go that easy. He was expecting the pack meeting to be pretty tense, but as long as they could get through it without bloodshed he'd consider it a step in the right direction. 

Scott and Isaac had been talking on the phone lately and Isaac was in a slightly better mood, but Derek could tell there were still some hurt feelings there. Whatever Isaac and Scott had was new enough that Scott's blow up had shaken things up pretty damn hard. Isaac had said that he was still expecting Scott to apologize to Derek, but Derek just laughed at that and told him not to expect a miracle. He quickly realized that it was the wrong thing to say when Isaac gave him the kicked puppy dog look and decided to spend the rest of the day with Boyd. He ended up apologizing to Isaac when he got back that night. 

“Look, about what I said earlier. I just meant that you shouldn't let problems between Scott and me get in the way of you two being together. We've been dicks to each other for a long time now and I don't think that's going to change overnight. That's just... how we work. Scott would rather pull his fingernails out with a pair of pliers than apologize to me and half the time I feel the same way. Seriously, it will be fine.” Derek said, reaching out to place a hand on Isaac's arm. Isaac just huffed and shook his head. 

“Yeah, that's kind of the point. I mean, I just don't know if I want to date someone that hates my best friend. I mean, do you really think Scott would be so interested in a relationship with me if Stiles and I hated each other?” Isaac asked. Derek's eyes widened for a moment before he had a chance to school his expression. He'd thought of Isaac as his best friend before, but he'd only ever thought of them as such in comparison to his other few and flimsy friendships. He didn't actually realize that Isaac himself might think of them that way or even go so far as to compare them to the fucking wonder twins. Derek absorbed that information and tried to focus on the conversation again because grown ass men weren't supposed to get stalled up over something as stupid as being called someone else's best friend. 

“Don't be stupid. You like him. Scott and I get along just fine, okay? We just have our own special way of dealing with each other.” Derek said with a sly grin before patting Isaac on the shoulder and walking away. He realized he now officially had himself a frenemy and a bff and that, yes, he was in fact a teenage girl. Just as Laura had always accused him back when he'd throw a bitch fit and lock himself in his room for days at a time. He imagined she was laughing her ass off, wherever she was. 

–

Saturday's pack meeting came with just as much tension as Derek expected. Scott and Isaac seemed to be getting along just fine again, but Scott was keeping his distance from Derek. Lydia and Jackson were keeping their distance from Stiles and Peter, and Stiles and Peter were... fucking driving Derek insane.

Stiles seemed determined to put as much distance between himself and Peter as possible, sitting next to Scott and Isaac while Peter sat near Derek and Boyd. How Derek had become a neutral party where Peter was concerned, he really had no idea. Apparently Derek's urge to curb stomp Peter was easier to manage than he thought. 

Peter looked downright pitiful if Derek was being honest. Stiles wasn't much better, either. Their eyes were flicking to each other so often that it was like watching a sad and disturbing game of ping pong. Stiles was uncharacteristically quiet while Peter, on the other hand, was particularly twitchy. He constantly looked on the verge of just getting up and going to Stiles, consequences be damned, but he managed to resist. 

Separated amongst themselves as they were, they were still there, still together. That was all that mattered at the moment. Derek settled everyone down with a couple stern words and gave them a fairly inspiring speech about how he wanted them to be a real pack for once and how that meant working past their problems and accepting each other. It ended with him basically giving them the all or nothing ultimatum and, despite a few shifty looks and a rousing eye roll from Lydia, they all seemed to agree. Stiles flashed him a supportive grin and despite having to watch him make moon-eyes at his uncle, Derek was truly glad he was there. 

The subject then switched to plans to rebuild the Hale house and things got a little smoother from then on. 

–

During the next couple of months, through the midst of summer, the pack dove into rebuilding the house. Derek soon found that having a project to focus on seemed to make all the difference in keeping the newly reformed pack together. As the weeks passed, the pack was forced to work together and given little free time to bicker and pick fights amongst themselves. Lydia and Jackson had been difficult at first between Lydia snapping orders at everyone and Jackson constantly giving Peter threatening looks that only goaded Peter to be even sassier and snarkier with him. 

A couple weeks in, just around the time when tempers were really start to wear thin, Lydia and Jackson decided to bring Danny along to help out. At first, Derek had been mildly irritated at having a new person brought into an already stressful situation, but he discovered that bringing Danny around seemed to be what finally leveled things out. Jackson was infinitely easier to handle with Danny around he and made for a excellent buffer between Lydia and Stiles. He had no previous issues with Peter and while he was sympathetic toward Lydia, he was probably the least intimidated by her of anyone in the group and more than willing to call her out when she was being unreasonable. Derek figured it also didn't hurt that Stiles now had an unbiased party to talk to about everything.

While Danny was certainly a helpful in smoothing out pack relations, there wasn't much he could do to help when it came to Peter and Stiles. They were still as much a hot mess as they'd been since they first joined the pack again. Peter was still texting Stiles regularly and Stiles (when he thought no one was paying attention) would look down at his phone and about fifteen different emotions would cross his face before he went back to sulking. Peter was obsessively cataloging Stiles's reactions and trying desperately to catch his eye, to absolutely no avail. Stiles could stonewall a motherfucker with the best of them. 

Derek was ready to kill them both just to put them out of their misery. The rest of the pack seemed to be alternating between sympathetic, annoyed, and confused. No one wanted to see Stiles miserable, but no one really seemed to see what Stiles saw in Peter and they kept expecting Stiles to wake up and smell the coffee, so to speak. The few times anyone dared mention the weird tension between them, they got shut down hard and fast by either Stiles or Peter. Everyone quickly learned that the subject of one was completely off limits to the other if you weren't looking to get your head snapped off. 

One time Peter took his shirt off during sparring and the entire vicinity got slammed with the sudden scent of obvious arousal coming from Stiles. Peter lost focus long enough to let Isaac get him pinned, Scott made a horrified face, Jackson pretended to puke, and Stiles turned beet red and stormed out, only to return about half an hour later in one of the bitchiest moods Derek had seen in a while. Peter, for his part, was absolute hell to spar with from that point on, taking his frustrations out on anyone who'd let him until there was no left willing to train with him that day. 

“Someone needs to get laid. Two someones, for that matter.” Jackson muttered after Peter left to get a drink. Derek cuffed him on the back of the head and told him to drop it, thankful that Peter hadn't seemed to hear him. He figured Stiles and Peter were making themselves miserable enough on their own, they didn't really need Jackson's help. That, and Derek didn't need the drama of Stiles trying to poison Jackson's Gatorade with wolfsbane or something. He wouldn't put it past him, frankly. He just hoped Peter and Stiles got over it soon because the constant fog of moodiness surrounding the two of them was getting old and Derek determined not to feel sorry for either of them. 

It seemed that, as hideously disturbing and upsetting as it was, Peter and Stiles actually did have some kind of feelings for each other. Derek didn't really know how to deal with that information. As angry as he'd been, he'd always been convinced that they'd only really been together to fuck with him. Now that he saw that wasn't necessarily the case, he didn't really know if that made it worse or better. For the moment, it was neither. It just was. 

–

“Soo.... summer's gonna be over soon.” Stiles said, leaning against his Jeep after everyone else had left after a day of working on the house. By the beginning of August, they'd managed to get an astonishing amount done considering their lack of organization and experience. The basic structure of the house was finally starting to come together, not without calling in a little professional help obviously, but Derek was proud of them nonetheless.

“I'm assuming you have a point?” Derek said, packing away a few tools that were still left out. 

“Don't I always? My point is... we should take a break for a day. Maybe... go to the beach or something? You know, one last end-of-summer hurrah kind of a thing?” Stiles said. 

“Still gotta lot of work to get done before school starts up.” Derek mumbled, knowing full well it wasn't a real excuse and would not be accepted as such.

“The work will still be there. Come on, one day? We've been doing pretty damn good lately, man. I think we could all use a little chill time, don't you?” Stiles said, kicking the dirt around with the toe of his Converse. Derek sighed like he always did when Stiles had a point. They'd kept it together better than he'd really expected, all things considered. Lydia and Stiles had gotten to the point where they could have a civil conversation without Danny stepping in to play referee and Peter, inexplicably, had managed to stay far enough off Derek's nerves that it was a little uncanny. They'd all been working together and as Derek watched something new slowly rising out of the ashes of his old house, he saw the same thing happening with his pack. It was different than what had been there before and still incomplete, but it was a hell of a thing to see. 

“I guess so. I'm not getting involved with the planning though. You and Lydia and Danny can deal with that shit. And no one's getting sand in my fucking Camaro. I'm not taking it.” Derek said, determined to act put out despite the fact that it was actually a pretty good idea. Stiles broke out in a grin and Derek had to fight to not match it with his own. It was times like that when Derek still missed Stiles a hell of a lot, but it had definitely gotten easier as time had passed. Derek found it kind of hard to pine over Stiles when Stiles was doing so much pining of his own. 

“Things are... better right? I mean, I know we haven't done much talking, but... we're okay, right?” Stiles said, gesturing between himself and Derek. Occasionally Derek had the sneaking suspicion Stiles was psychic because he always seemed to be oddly in synch with whatever was on Derek's mind. 

“Yeah, Stiles. We're fine. I mean, all things considered I think we're doing pretty damn good.” Derek said. Stiles smiled softly, but it was still a little bit sad underneath and as much Derek wanted to just let it drop and leave it alone, some tiny voice in his head nagged at him until he finally spoke up. 

“What about you? How have you.. been doing?” Derek asked. Stiles looked at him completely shocked that he was actually instigating that converstation. 

“What about me?” he asked. Derek rolled his eyes. 

“Come on, don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. You and you whole-” Derek made a sort of circular gesture with his hands, “-Peter thing.” he finished, cringing. 

“Oh my god. This is killing you right now, isn't it?” Stiles said with a chuckle. 

“Exactly, so fucking talk. If it's bad enough that I'm willing to approach the subject....” 

“Yeah yeah, I get it. I... I don't know. I'm trying to just let it go, because I know he's messed up and way too fucking old for me, not to mention the awkwardness of him being your uncle... but he's not exactly making it easy for me.” Stiles said with a smile that was fond, sad, and irritated all at once. 

“What, the texts? Couldn't you just tell him to stop or block his number?” Derek asked. He didn't exactly know the details, just that Peter made a point of regularly sending Stiles these texts that were somehow meant to woo him or something. 

“Yeah, I guess. It's just... I kind of like them, you know? Fuck.” Stiles said, resting his head against the top of the Camaro. 

“Off the car.” Derek said, slapping a hand down near Stiles's head to make him jerk up. Stiles huffed at him. 

“Look, I'm the last person to give you advice on this subject because we all know I'm pretty damn biased, but.... you're pack. I want you to be happy. I mean... shit I don't know what I mean, honestly.” Derek said. He didn't want to be complicit in getting Peter and Stiles together, by any means, but he meant what he said. Stiles was pack and even though he was human and didn't share the same bond with Derek that his betas did, Derek still couldn't stand to see him miserable. Such was the complications of being your ex's Alpha. 

“I just don't want to... I don't want to try something with him and mess up everything we've worked for. I don't want the pack to fucking hate me again just for being with him and I don't want to be with him just for him to turn around and make a fool of me by proving everyone right. It's just that he's been so fucking good! I mean, weirdly good! I just don't know if its because he's really trying to be better or if he's just waiting for me to give in.” Stiles said. Derek sighed. He had a very bad feeling that he was going to end up saying things he'd really rather not say. 

“Look, the pack's not going to abandon you again, either way. We're not... that's not how this is going to be. Not again. You and Peter... you're pack. Pack is like family... maybe more than family. You don't just abandon your family because they do something you don't like. I might be upset or pissed off or just... it doesn't change anything. I don't think I'll ever really be able to fully forgive Peter or fully trust him, but you're going to have to make your own decision as to whether or not _you_ can >” Derek said. He felt like he needed a three hour hot shower just from saying it, but he said it. 

“You know, you're getting quite wise in your old age, Alpha.” Stiles said with a smile. Derek rolled his eyes and shoved past him, but Stiles just laughed. 

“Well I can see you've reached your quota of meaningful conversations for the day. Or quite possibly the whole year. So I'm gonna go let the pack know about the beach thing. Do we- Do we like, hug it out or something right now?” Stiles asked. Derek turned and raised an eyebrow. 

“You're right. Let's not push our luck. Later, Derek!” Stiles said, finally plastering back on his usual goofy grin before he hopped in the car and took off in a cloud of exhaust. 

Derek leaned against the back of the Camaro and looked at what was essentially the skeleton of a house rising up out of the ground. He wondered if anything he had said would matter to Stiles in the long run. He figured that at this point, the least he could do was make it Stiles's decision and his alone. He had to take himself and the rest of the pack out of the equation. If Stiles realized that he still didn't want to be with Peter after their discussion then at least maybe he could move on and finally cut Peter out for good. Then again, he might decide to give it a chance, but at least this time he'd be with his pack where people could look out for him. 

Derek didn't want to think that Peter might still be hiding some nefarious plan, but he wasn't naïve enough to full discount the idea. Even if Peter had genuinely quit with the manipulating and scheming, that didn't mean he'd be any good for Stiles, but Derek supposed it would be up to Stiles to kick his ass to the curb. Derek had to remember that Stiles could take care of himself. 

Plus there was always that faint hope that Peter and Stiles would get together and within about two weeks the novelty would wear off and they'd part ways. Stiles still had his dad to worry about, college, finding a career. If nothing else got in the way, Peter's age had to. Derek figured they had enough going against them that his influence was damn near negligible. 

There was always the chance that the sheriff would find out and put a bullet or two in Peter. That might be entertaining, at least. Though that might lead to an interesting conversation with the sheriff about why the man he'd shot wasn't dead or at least in intensive care. 

Derek took a deep breath let it out. One way or another, this was going to be a huge pain in his ass.


	15. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is about ready to snap from frustration (being a good boy is hard work, apparently), but he gets a pleasant surprise just in the nick of time. Then there's a shopping trip because... it's Peter and that's how this works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry about the wait on this chapter. Imagine me looking all shame-faced and contrite because I totally do right now.

Peter had been behaving. Well, maybe his interpretation of good behavior was a little loose. 

It wasn't as though Peter didn't see Stiles fairly often. As Derek had oh so graciously allowed them both back into the pack, he got to see him plenty. It was just that it lacked privacy... intimacy. It only took about two weeks before Peter had fallen back into his old routine of making a place for himself outside of Stiles's window. Old habits died hard, he supposed. 

Once again under the watchful eyes of the pack, Peter didn't risk going inside again, but just being there was enough. It was oddly soothing to just watch Stiles sleep, but Peter wasn't exactly going to complain if Stiles took some personal time before bed. Peter had become intimately familiar with Stiles's masturbation habits in no time and he tried not to be smug on the occasions when Stiles seemed to focus on porn featuring men eerily similar to himself (he couldn't help it if he had a clear view of the laptop screen from where he was). He wasn't exactly surprised, though. Stiles could deny and ignore Peter all day, but his body always gave him away. He could smell the want seeping out of every pore and he wanted to lick the scent of it off Stiles's skin. 

Still, Peter held off. He kept his distance and let Stiles pretend he wasn't reading every text Peter sent him. He could imagine what Stiles and the rest of the pack would think of his nightly visits, but really, they could only expect so much out of a man. Each day seemed more frustrating than the last. He considered himself patient, but his patience was slowly wearing thin. Seeing Stiles every day and knowing that Stiles wanted it just as bad as he did was driving him out of his mind. Well, further out of his mind, he supposed. He knew Stiles had plenty of reasons (not that Peter agreed with said reasons) and he was trying to give him time, but it was getting harder and harder to wait. 

Usually, Peter wouldn't piss on most people if they were on fire, but Stiles was the exception to the rule. He actually _cared_ whether or not he was happy, and seeing him otherwise and not being able to do a damn thing about was _infuriating_. The longer Peter watched Stiles sit around and deny himself something he wanted for everyone else's sake, the more pissed off he got. 

Two months. Two months of being good and playing fair and Peter wasn't sure what the hell he was going to do; just that he needed to do something. He needed to be being proactive, moving forward, making fucking progress. He continued texting Stiles only to be ignored, and he continued watching him and wanting him from a distance. Until finally, his damn phone went off. 

**From: Stiles**

_Hey so what's your opinion of the beach?_

Peter stared at the text, backed out of it, then went to look at it again. It was so damn random and out of the blue that he was half convinced Stiles had intended to text someone else. People didn't go from radio silence for two months to asking about someone's opinion of the beach out of nowhere. Then again, this was Stiles. He wasn't exactly _people_.

**To: Stiles**

_They're generally very sandy and often have water._

**From: Stiles**

_those are facts. I asked for your opinion._

Well that at least cleared up whether or not he had intended to text Peter.

**To: Stiles**

_Don't be a smartass._

**From: Stiles**

_better than being a dumb ass :)_

_ANYWAY. we're planning a trip to the beach as a pack thing and I was wondering if you were planning on going_

Peter pondered over the texts, still just as confused as he was a few minutes before. If it was a pack thing there was no reason for Stiles to specifically make a point of asking Peter about it. There had always been someone else willing to relay information like that to Peter in the past. For whatever reason, Stiles had chosen to ask Peter himself... This was...

This was progress! 

**To: Stiles**

_I can plan on it now that I know about it. When?_

Apparently that was the point at which Stiles got tired of texting because Peter's phone started ringing. That was also the moment that Peter learned Stiles had at some point changed his ring tone to play “It's Raining Men” whenever he called. It was kind of depressing that it had taken Peter two months to find out because Stiles hadn't called him once since he'd changed it. 

“I see you changed my ring tone,” Peter said calmly as he answered the phone. He heard Stiles bark out a laugh and immediately grinned. 

_“Oh shit, I completely forgot about that! That's hysterical! Tell me you're in public right now!” Stiles said._

“No dice.” 

_“Aw, damn. Oh well. So... is this the part where I awkwardly point out that it's been a while since we last talked?”_

“You could. Or you could skip it. I think we're awkward enough without making an effort,” Peter said, and Stiles laughed again. 

_“You have a point. So... yeah, beach trip. Um, we're planning on going on Saturday. Like an all-day thing? Bonfire and all that jazz,”_ Stiles said, and Peter could clearly picture him doing jazz hands with the hand not holding the phone. He knew Stiles all too well. 

“I'm surprised Derek is on board for this. Seems a little too close to fun for comfort,” Peter said. He tried to imagine Derek out in the sun, freed of the burden of his leather jacket and permanent scowl. It was easier than it might have been in the past, but still a stretch. 

_”I can be very convincing when I want to be. All grouchy werewolves bend to my will, dude,”_ Stiles said, more than a little smug.

“I seem to remember telling you that I was going to consider 'dude' a term of endearment from you...” 

_”Oh my god, don't start. I knew I shouldn't have called you,”_ Stiles groaned. 

“Not that I'm complaining, but why did you call me? I thought you were going for the silent treatment high score.”

 _”Well, Derek refuses to take the Camaro because sandy beach people will ruin his precious interior so Danny and I are driving. I thought you could ride with me, Scott, Isaac, and Erica. Then Lydia, Jackson, Derek, and Boyd can all ride with Danny,”_ Stiles explained. Peter had to admit it was good planning. The few tense relationships in the pack were comfortably split up. Nothing strained the peace like a cramped car ride. 

“As long as I get shotgun.”

 _“Psh, like anyone wants to be crammed in the back seat with you? Yeah, you can have shotgun,”_ Stiles said and Peter chuckled. 

“You know, I actually missed your particular brand of back-sass. I must be some kind of masochist.”

 _”Dude- Not Dude. Don't say back-sass. You sound like my meemaw or something and it's really disturbing... and if that's your smooth way of telling me you missed me... yeah, um... me too, I guess,”_ Stiles said, and it was adorable how much it seemed to pain him to say it. 

“Well... now that's out of the way. I have another problem.” 

_”Oh lord...”_ Stiles groaned, ever the optimist.

“I don't have any swim trunks.” 

_”How the hell do you not have- Oh shit. Um, no, that actually makes sense. I guess you wouldn't. How long has it been since you've been to the beach?”_

“Do you really want me to answer that, Stiles? We've done such a good job of ignoring the elephant in the room...”

“ _The elephant in the room being...”_

“The fact that you were probably ten years old the last time I went to the beach?” Peter said. He could almost feel Stiles cringing through the phone and he rolled his eyes. 

_”Well yeah, but you know... coma and stuff... You're right, shouldn't have asked. Anywhoo...”_ Stiles rambled on.

“So do you want to come shopping with me or not?” Peter asked, doing his best to distract Stiles from the awkward reality of their age difference before he got carried away. 

_”Um....yeah. I guess I could do that. You're not going to be all creepy and compliment my skin though, are you? Allison told me about that Silence of the Lambs type shit you pulled on her while she was dress shopping.”_

“Hm... I don't know. You do have lovely skin....” 

_”Ugh...”_

“I really don't know why you encourage me. Anyway, are you free tomorrow afternoon?”

 _“Uh, yup. Free as a bird and all that. Yeah,”_ Stiles answered. 

“Good. I'll pick you up around... two?” Peter asked, knowing full well that noon was as good as the break of dawn as far as Stiles was concerned. 

_“Okay. I'll see you then, I guess,”_ Stiles said, and thankfully, hung up the phone before they could find yet another way to awkwardly draw out their goodbye.

–

The next day Peter may have made a point to wear one of his tightest thinnest t-shirts. He couldn't really resist, not after the way Stiles had reacted the last time he took his shirt off. He wasn't above playing dirty. He had no clue what had finally convinced Stiles to see him again, but he was sure as hell going to take advantage of it. 

Stiles hadn't asked Peter to meet him around the block or anything so it was obvious the Sheriff would be at work. Of course, that didn't keep Stiles from making a quick exit the moment Peter pulled up. He apparently didn't want Peter lingering long enough to attract the attention of any potential nosy neighbors. 

Peter drove off and got about a block away before he pulled over, nostrils flaring and pupils blown. 

“You... you smell like me,” Peter said, leaning in towards the crook of Stiles's neck to search out the source of the smell. 

“What- what are you talking about?” Stiles stammered, but his heart rate had sped up and his face was suddenly very pink. 

“How do you smell like me?” Peter asked. He hadn't pulled away from Stiles's neck, but he figured the fact that he didn't have his mouth against the skin yet showed excellent self-restraint. 

“Shut up. I don't. You're wolfy senses are failing you in your advanced age,” Stiles said, skin still flushing so prettily right down to his neck. 

“Cute, but you're lying. Tell me,” Peter demanded, leaning down to the collar of Stiles's shirt where he could smell himself on his skin a little better. Faint, but definite. Suddenly, he realized how Stiles smelled like him, despite not having touched him for two months. 

“You still have my shirt, don't you? You didn't wash it. Did you...” he leaned in and couldn't help letting his lips brush against Stiles's neck. Stiles shivered and took in a sharp breath. 

“You slept in my shirt,” Peter whispered. He pulled back just enough to see Stiles, adorably embarrassed and biting his lip as he avoided Peter's eyes. Peter cupped his jaw and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against Stiles's lips. He pulled away quickly, if for no other reason than to not have Stiles pull away first. He put the car in gear and headed toward the mall, trying not to get too excited by the eager beating of Stiles's heart. 

“I didn't think it still smelled like you,” Stiles mumbled, staring out the window. 

“Are you glad it does?” Peter asked. Stiles didn't answer for a moment and Peter didn't honestly expect him to, but eventually he turned away from the window and spoke. 

“Yeah,” Stiles answered. Peter grinned and Stiles grinned back, shaking his head, “You're way too easy to please, you know that?” 

“I take great pride in that fact, actually. I'm not usually one to deny myself happiness,” Peter said, turning to throw a slightly accusatory look at Stiles. 

“That's what you think I've been doing?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

“No? What have you been doing then?” 

“Trying to get my shit together, mostly. Maybe trying to get _other_ peoples’ shit together a little too, but that's not why I've been avoiding you,” Stiles said. Peter really wished he wasn't driving because he would have liked to see the various expressions that went along with every word Stiles said. Stiles was too expressive for his own good most of the time, but it did Peter little good when he couldn't see his face. 

“So tell me,” Peter prompted. 

“I needed to know if I'd still want you when I had everything else back or if...” 

“Or if I was just a distraction?” Peter finished for him. 

“Yeah.” 

“So... what's the verdict?” 

“I don't know anymore. Now, I'm not sure if it's you or if it’s that fucking shirt. I mean, did you fucking paint it on before you left the house? Will it wipe away if I try to touch it? It's kind of obscene, Peter. I don't think you can go in public like that,” Stiles said, making a disgusted face and flailing his arms in the general vicinity of Peter's torso. 

“Nice. You've combined deflection with flattery. I'm so proud,” Peter said, grinning. 

“It was worth a try,” Stiles replied with a shrug. “I do like that shirt though,” he added. Peter could smell his appreciation enough that he didn't have to catch the appraising look Stiles was giving him in his peripheral vision to know that was true. 

Peter was going to try his line of questioning again, but they'd just pulled up at the mall. Of course, the one time he wouldn't have minded making a couple extra loops around the lot, they found a great parking spot right away. Oh well. Rome wasn't built in a day, he supposed. 

“So... Macy's?” Stiles asked. 

Peter shrugged. “Where else does anyone go in Beacon Hills?” They didn't exactly have the most impressive mall, and Peter sure as hell wasn't going to Sears. Actually, he was pretty sure they closed the Sears. 

“You realize that I don't share your almost Lydia-esque love of clothing, right?” Stiles asked, giving the entrance to the Macy's a fearful look. 

“I'm aware,” Peter said, putting a hand on the small of Stiles's back like he might book at any moment. Stiles's shopping method of choice was online and usually consisted of him choosing which graphic tee he liked best and then filling in the blanks with odd colored pants, plaid, and hoodies. 

“Yeah, well you better make it worth my while. I'm talking Cinnabon, buddy,” Stiles said. 

“How you can eat a ten pound mound of doughy sugar and still complain about your father's eating habits is beyond me,” Peter sighed. 

“Yeah, well one day my metabolism is going to catch up with me and then the joke's on me. Until then, make with the fucking Cinnabon,” Stiles said, making grabby hands and ignoring the hand still resting possessively on the small of his back. 

“As you wish,” Peter said. Stiles turned to him with narrowed eyes.

“What?” Peter asked.

“Just trying to figure out if you're trying to pull a Wesley on me,” he said, suspiciously. 

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Peter said with a smirk. Stiles just shook his head and walked on. Peter was certainly not above using pop culture references to his advantage either. 

They soon found themselves surrounded by red stars and racks of men's swimwear. 

“You're not going to try and get a speedo or something, right? I mean, no offense, but nothing makes an older guy look older than a speedo. I mean, I wouldn't mind watching you try one on, but yeah...” 

“Stiles, I'm not getting a speedo. Actually, I was thinking you could pick something out for me,” Peter suggested. 

“Did you miss my previous comment on my feelings towards shopping? Let me recap it for you: Shopping plus Stiles equals nope,” Peter just huffed at him and rolled his eyes.

“Yes, but you're very good at imagining me in various states of undress, aren't you? Just imagine me in the swim trunks and then pick the ones you like best,” Peter teased, gripping Stiles by his hips and pulling him in close. 

“Using my overactive teenage hormones against me is low, even for you,” Stiles complained, but it seemed to be working because he was letting his hands slide down Peter's sides, long fingers dragging across the thing fabric of his shirt. Peter laughed and turned Stiles around toward the racks of clothes. 

“Fine.” Stiles huffed, throwing his hands up in defeat. Peter watched as he fished through the racks with a single eyebrow permanently raise and his tongue between his teeth. He had to admit, he got a little nervous when Stiles paused momentarily on a pair of shorts in lime green and turquoise plaid, but luckily he moved on. After a while, he found a pair by a skateboard company that had three wolves howling at the moon on it. He laughed until he cried and kept trying to hold them up against Peter's hips to see what they would look like. 

“Move on, Stiles. Move. On,” Peter grumbled.

“Oh my god, come on! You're no fucking fun. Hold on. I gotta text a picture of these to Scott,” he said, pulling out his cellphone. Peter waited patiently until Stiles finally moved on from the damn wolf shorts. He continued looking through the trunks, occasionally snickering at some particularly ostentatious ones as he, no doubt, pictured Peter wearing one ridiculous pair after another. Peter had no idea how much of a toll this swim trunks disaster was going to have on his dignity. 

Finally, Stiles pulled a pair off the rack and held them up for Peter's consideration. They were red board shorts with a curved black stripe down each side. Peter breathed out a small sigh of relief that there wasn't a single neon color on them.

“You remembered my favorite color, didn't you?” 

“Shut up. Come on. You gotta try them on,” Stiles said, turning toward the fitting rooms. 

“I'm pretty sure I know my size, Stiles. I doubt we can fuck this up too much. They're drawstring shorts,” Peter said, surprised by Stiles's sudden enthusiasm.

“Hey, I'm finding my own way of making this fun, ok? Now come on,” They stopped at the fitting rooms and Peter almost choked on his laughter. 

“Were you aware of this?” he asked, looking at Stiles. He wouldn't put it past him. 

“Aware of what?” Stiles asked.

“The doors, Stiles. Look at them and tell me what's wrong with this picture,” Peter said. The fitting rooms basically consisted of a hallway full of little mirrored rooms that had slatted doors closing them off... only, the doors had been installed in such a way that the slats were facing the wrong direction and you could look right into any room just by simply looking down; no doubt a very clever and unethical means of loss prevention. 

“Ew...” Stiles said, having obviously caught on. After a moment, though, his smile perked up. 

“I'm totally going to let my dad know about this gross breach of privacy, but in the meantime, don't you have some shorts to try on?” 

“And _I'm_ the creepy one? Fine. You're lucky I'm a bit of an exhibitionist,” Peter said, winking as he shut himself in the tiny mirrored room while Stiles waited just outside the door. 

True to form, Peter put on a show as he undressed. He peeled off his shirt first, completely ignoring the fact that doing so was totally unnecessary to trying on the shorts. He made sure to face the door the entire time as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans and slowly pulled them down. He heard Stiles groan as he turned to give Stiles a nice view of his ass as he finished taking his jeans off. He slowly dragged the waistband of his briefs down past his ass, but pulled them back up just as slowly, chuckling a little at the sound of disappointment Stiles let out. He was a pervert, but a hygienic pervert. He put on the boards shorts Stiles had picked out and then opened the door to submit himself to Stiles's approval. 

Stiles twirled one of his fingers to signal Peter to do a turn. Obviously he'd found at least one thing he liked about shopping. Peter gave him a look of disbelief, but did a slow turn anyway. 

“You like 'em?” Stiles asked. 

“They're good,”

“Good, now take 'em off so we can buy those bitches. There's a ten pound pile of doughy sugar with my name on it!” 

“You just want to watch me take these off again,” Peter said, with a big shit eating grin. Stiles just shrugged... and watched him take off the shorts through the slats in the door.

After Peter changed back into his clothes, they took the shorts up to one of the cashiers and Peter handed them to the girl with a charming smile. 

“Ah, very nice! Are these for you or your son?” the girl asked, obviously trying for cute and friendly and missing the mark by a mile. 

“Do I really look like I'm old enough to be his father?” Peter growled, looking about ten times more offended than he actually was. Though, he really didn't think he looked old enough to be Stiles' father for fuck's sake. Maybe if he were one of those teen dads and had Stiles when he was really young... That was far too disturbing a line of thought, even for Peter.

“Oh! I'm so sorry! I just... I didn't mean to be rude,” the girl said, blushing fiercely. Stiles stepped in and put and arm around Peter's waist.

“Calm down honey. It was an honest mistake,” he said, soothingly. He leaned in and planted a kiss on Peter's cheek before turning to the girl with a bright grin.

“Don't worry. This happens every time I shave,” Stiles said, stroking his smooth chin and winking at the girl. She hurriedly rung up the shorts and threw them another apology before they left. 

They barely managed to get out of ear shot before finally busting out in laughter.

–

After their Macy's adventure, they sat in the food court as Stiles shoveled down his giant cinnamon monstrosity. Peter mostly just sipped his iced coffee and stared, horrified and impressed in equal measure. 

“So... you never told me what you decided,” Peter said. Stiles looked up at him and swallowed a thick mouthful before speaking.

“Decided?” 

“You said you were trying to decide whether or not you actually wanted to be with me or if it was just a by-product of being lonely and unhappy,” Peter summarized. 

“Oh. We're having that conversation. Right now,” Stiles said. 

“Now would be nice.” 

“Ok, so here goes, I guess. I still do. Want to be with you, I mean. Even after I got my friends back and my pack. _But_ , I still don't know if this is going to turn around and bite me in the ass... maybe literally,” Stiles added, giving Peter a dirty look. “I just think it might be worth a try... maybe?” he finished. 

“Hm, I thought the incident with the cashier might have changed your mind,” Peter said with a grin, resisting the urge to fuck Stiles right there in the food court in celebration. 

“Are you kidding? That damn near sealed the deal. That was fucking hysterical,” Stiles retorted with a bit of a maniacal grin. 

“I don't know if it was _that_ funny,” Peter said, still a little sour about the whole thing. It wasn't enough to wipe the grin off his face, though. 

“You know, I can't really promise anything though, right? I mean, I've still got college to worry about and I have no idea how this is going to work with my dad. I just... want to try,” Stiles said, still picking at the frosted monstrosity in front of him. 

“I can work with that. Now can you please finish that goddamn cinnamon bun,” Peter said. He didn't really have to clarify for Stiles to know why he wanted him to hurry. Stiles gave him a devious grin and went about taking his time to finish the treat off, taking every opportunity to lick the frosting off his fingers and moaning like a porn star with every bite. By the time he finished, Peter was questioning every choice he'd made up until that point. 

Peter grabbed Stiles and dragged him, almost literally, toward the exit while Stiles just laughed. He broke about ten different traffic laws and ended up parked behind an abandoned furniture outlet.

“What are you doing?” Stiles asked, looking around nervously. 

“You took too long with your damn Cinnabon,” Peter growled, reaching over to pull the lever that dropped Stiles's seat back. He leaned over him and pulled him in by the collar of his shirt to kiss him. 

“Fuck, you taste like cinnamon and frosting,” Peter moaned, kind of irritated that he was enjoying it so much after the way Stiles had teased him with it. 

“Mm...” Stiles hummed, pulling Peter back in to bite at his lip, his hand already halfway up Peter's shirt. Apparently Stiles had been dealing with the sexual frustration about as well as Peter had. 

“You and your stupid shorts, and that fucking fitting room,” Stiles groaned, kissing and biting at Peter's jaw as he worked a hand down the back of Peter's pants. Peter groaned in appreciation as Stiles squeezed his ass through his briefs. 

“You slept in my shirt, Stiles. You fucking smell like me. You're lucky I didn't have you naked right in front of your house,” Peter said, his voice hitching as Stiles slid his hand a little farther down; a finger trailing the crack of his ass. This was... different. Stiles just let out a breathy laugh. 

“I kind of really want to fuck you,” Stiles whispered before biting down gently on his neck.

“As you wish...” Peter murmured, partly just to feel Stiles laughing against his skin and partly because he honestly loved that stupid movie. 

“Seriously?” Stiles asked, pulling back to look at Peter's face. Peter shrugged and grinned. He was a little surprised Stiles hadn't asked before, but then he hadn't really had many opportunities to do so. 

“Not here though. Come back to my place?” Peter asked. 

“Yeah, sure. Yes. Just drive,” Stiles said, hurriedly shoving Peter off him and adjusting his seat so he could buckle up. 

Peter took off towards the apartment. The only thing that kept him from breaking the sound barrier was Stiles's none-too-gentle reminder of the consequences of his father pulling them over at that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The [three wolf moon shorts](http://www1.macys.com/shop/product/dc-shoes-swimwear-howler-board-shorts?ID=817510&CategoryID=3291&LinkType=#fn=sp%3D1%26spc%3D386) are totally a real thing you can get from Macy's lol. 
> 
>  
> 
> Less amusing, the messed up [fitting room situation](http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/08/08/macys-dressing-rooms_n_921108.html) is/was also totally a real thing at Macy's. 
> 
> Next up: Another Stiles POV and a beach trip! Because this story is secretly an anime and has an obligatory beach episode.


	16. Stiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of bottom!Peter smut and a delightful beach trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to warn you, towards the end of the chapter there is a bit dealing with some PTSD type issues with Peter and fire.

Stiles hadn't necessarily intended to be going home with Peter after their little shopping trip. He hadn't planned much farther ahead than telling him how he felt and even that was a pretty half ass plan to begin with. After he'd finished his talk with Derek he felt that usual impulsive itch to just be near Peter, but this time he felt like maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing ever if he just... went with it. That pull never really went away, as much as he had wanted it to. He thought (hoped?) it would eventually fade, but he felt it nagging at him every time he saw Peter. It was like a very fucked up addiction and, with Peter back in the pack as well, he had to look at that stupidly attractive crack rock of a werewolf almost every day. 

Stiles had talked to Peter and made plans to ride with him to the beach with every intention of taking things slowly. He'd break the silence, they'd drive together and maybe chat a little, hang out at the beach, and then maybe talk about the whole hot mess of feelings they seemed to have between them. Of course, Peter derailed that plan pretty quickly, but that was kind of how this thing with Peter seemed to work. Nothing happened the way he expected and nothing was ever slow. Everything they did seemed to be kind of all or nothing no matter how hard they (or at least Stiles) tried otherwise. 

Honestly, Stiles hadn't realized they were all or nothing when it came to sexual positions , too. He wasn't sure why he assumed Peter wouldn't be into bottoming- maybe it was the fact that he never brought it up, the fact that he was older, the fact that he was a former Alpha- but he was fairly pleased to find out he was wrong. He wouldn't say it out loud for a million dollars and he knew he was a douche for thinking it, but there was clearly some kind of genetic magic at work when it came to the asses in that family because Peter's was just as unreal as Derek's... except Derek had never offered to let Stiles fuck his. 

Peter pulled up to his building and practically dragged Stiles up the stairs to his apartment, mostly because Stiles was thoroughly distracted by watching Peter's ass as he walked up the stairs. It was possible he was going to be a little fixated now that he had all these opportunities ahead of him. There were about one million different things he'd like to do to Peter and he was suddenly under the impression that there wasn't much Peter wouldn't let him do. 

Peter managed to unlock his door in a reasonable amount of time, despite Stiles reaching around to unzip his jeans before they even got past the threshold. The moment they shut the door behind them, Stiles had Peter pressed up against it and was kissing and biting short lived hickeys into his neck. Peter tried to nudge Stiles toward the bedroom, but Stiles resisted. 

“No. Want you to ride me on your stupid boring couch,” Stiles muttered against the almost too hot flesh of Peter's neck. Peter's breath hitched and then he laughed.

“Still need to grab the lube.” 

“You should just keep lube everywhere. Couch, kitchen, bathroom, everywhere,” Stiles mumbled against Peter's skin. He had managed to hike up Peter's ridiculously tight tee shirt and was unwilling to stop kissing and biting at the freckled skin now on display. It had been a while and he'd spent way too much time trying to convince himself he didn't want this to slow down now.

“Fuck. Just... let me,” Peter said, finally pushing Stiles away so he could make a run to the room to get the lube. Stiles grumbled a little at the sudden lack of contact, but instead busied himself with getting undressed. By the time Peter made it back into the living room, Stiles was already naked and lounging on the couch stroking himself lazily. 

“Well fuck,” Peter breathed, taking in the sight in front of him. 

“You should definitely join me on this nudity kick. It's pretty wonderful,” Stiles said with a smirk. Peter had already gotten as far as throwing off his tee shirt, but he still had his unzipped jeans hanging from his hips and the briefs he was wearing underneath stretched tight across his erection. Stiles snorted a little as Peter undressed and Peter paused to look up at him with a quirked eyebrow.

“Sorry, this is just a lot better than creeping on you through the fitting room door,” Stiles chuckled. Peter grinned and kicked away the remains of his clothes before coming to kneel in front of Stiles, knocking his knees apart to slide up between them. Stiles had kind of hoped there would be some lap action going on already, but he was willing to be patient when Peter was slowly kissing his way up his thighs like he was worshiping Stiles with his mouth. 

“You're overestimating me if you think I'm gonna be able to hold back from coming right now,” Stiles whimpered as Peter took him into his mouth. Peter seemed to see the sense in what Stiles said, but he couldn't resist giving his cock one good suck before pulling off with a filthy pop. Stiles moaned and pulled Peter up on to his lap. Peter was as desperately hard as Stiles was and couldn't seem to resist sliding his cock up against Stiles as he kissed him. Stiles didn't even wait to pull away from the kiss before he was fumbling around for the bottle of lube. It had sunk in between the couch cushions, but Stiles managed to find it without having to pry himself away from Peter's greedy mouth. 

Peter made a noise of approval that sounded suspiciously close to a purr when he heard Stiles pop the cap of the lube open and start to slick up his fingers. Stiles made a mental note to tease him about that later as he reached behind Peter to grasp his ass with both hands, letting lube coated fingers slide between his cheeks as he spread him open. Peter pulled away from the kiss and let his head drop against Stiles's shoulder as Stiles ran his fingers across the tight furl of his hole.

“How long as it been?” Stiles asked, teasing a slick finger around the rim. He didn't really give a shit if the answer made him feel young or Peter seem too old, he just wanted to know. Peter laughed a little, but Stiles managed to turn it into a moan with a gentle prod of his finger.

“Honestly? Never. Not this, I mean,” Peter explained and Stiles realized he probably shouldn't have been as surprised by that answer as he was. Peter had been married to a woman before and there was every chance that, if he had been with men before, he'd only topped. 

“Good.”

“Now you're starting to sound like me,” Peter said with a little laugh, still breathing heavily into the crook of Stiles's neck. Stiles didn't answer, just continued to break Peter apart with his fingers and his mouth. He felt like his whole body was thrumming. He had no idea how badly he wanted this until he had it. He'd never realized that he wanted to possess Peter just as badly as Peter wanted to possess him. He wanted to take all the pieces of Peter that no one else got to see and keep them for himself, locked away for his eyes only.

Stiles waited until Peter was rocking his hips back against his fingers and practically gnawing at his neck in desperation before going any further. He slipped his index finger in to the first knuckle and slowly worked it in and out as Peter continued to focus on what would most likely be a fucking _appalling_ hickey just above his collarbone.

“God, I love this. Just feeling you squeeze around me like this. You want more?” Stiles asked. Peter responded by shooting him a withering glare and reaching between them to stroke Stiles's cock. 

“Don't _you_ want more?” Peter asked, squeezing just a little tighter around Stiles's cock and pushing back on his finger. Stiles thought that was a fairly reasonable reply and started fingering Peter in earnest. He added a second finger and hooked them down, stroking Peter from the inside and searching for his prostate because he _had_ to see Peter's reaction to that. Peter had made him beg enough times that Stiles was pretty sure it was his turn. 

Sure enough, Stiles's long clever fingers hit their mark and Peter arched off his lap like he'd been electrocuted. Stiles knew he was grinning like a loon, but he really didn't care. 

“Do that again,” Peter demanded.

“Ask me nicely,” Stiles said, his grin stretching wider as Peter glared at him. Oh how the tables had turned. 

“Please?” Peter finally asked with mock sweetness. Stiles worked his fingers in deeper and fucked into him, doing his best to hit every spot inside Peter but the one he really wanted. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Please, Stiles. Just... fuck,” Peter pleaded, riding Stiles's fingers. Stiles would have had more pity, but he was just as hard and horny and desperate as Peter was.

“Sounds like a plan,” Stiles said, grabbing the lube with his free hand. Peter took the bottle and pushed Stiles back against the couch with one hand so that he could slick his cock up. Apparently he didn't trust Stiles to be quick about it. Stiles moaned at the feeling of Peter's hand on him. He'd been teasing himself just as much as he'd been teasing Peter and the slick hand against his cock felt like heaven.

“Come on, put it in for me. I want to see you,” Stiles said. Truth be told, Stiles could feel it more than see it from the position they were in, but it was more than enough. Peter's lube-slick hand held his cock steady as he sunk down on it. His eyes were closed tight, like he was focusing on the feeling of Stiles stretching him open and nothing else. Stiles gripped Peter by his thighs and whispered encouragement as he steadily lowered himself down until he was fully seated on Stiles's lap. 

Stiles took a breath and forced himself not to move. He knew Peter had a hell of a pain tolerance and a werewolf healing factor to match, but he still didn't want to hurt him (a thought that would have been downright hysterical to him a year ago). Peter felt like a hot vice around him, slick as satin and clenching just a little as he tried to relax. 

“Fuck... this is...” Peter groaned.

“Good?” Stiles asked.

“Yes,” Peter hissed, slowly rocking up just a little, “Just as good from this end,” he finished and that made Stiles laugh a little. He couldn't remember ever laughing this much during sex before, but it was good. It was the good kind of sex laughter, if there was such a thing.

Peter picked up the pace and started riding Stiles, slowly at first. Stiles left the pace to him and focused instead on the way Peter's ass flexed in his hands as he fucked him. He leaned forward and sucked Peter's nipple into his mouth, gently nipping at it until he felt Peter shudder on top of him.

“Don't come yet. After I'm done, I want you to fuck me while you still leaking my come,” Stiles whispered- practically growled- in Peter's ear. 

“That... That kind of thing is exactly what I'm talking about when I say you're perfect for me.” Peter half laughed, half panted as Stiles pounded up into him, meeting him thrust for thrust. 

“Fuck, definitely gonna be soon. So fucking close,” Stiles whimpered. He hooked his arms over Peter's shoulders and pulled him down harder onto his cock. He reached up and tangled one hand into Peter's hair, tugging hard and causing him to let out the hottest fucking moan Stiles had ever heard. Had he missed that Peter was obviously very into hair pulling? How the fuck had he missed that? Either way, that was pretty much all she wrote. Stiles grunted and his hips stuttered as he fucked each pulse of come deep into Peter. 

Peter didn't last much longer either. Apparently the feeling of Stiles coming inside him and the punishing grip on his hair was enough to have him shooting his load across Stiles's chest. 

“Fuck,” Stiles cursed, “I had plans for you!” 

“Shut. Up.” Peter said, pulling him into a breathless kiss. He slowly raised up off Stiles's lap and Stiles most certainly did _not_ whine a little as he pulled away. 

“Come on,” Peter said, holding a hand out. Stiles grimaced because he was pretty sure his skin was now fused to the leather sofa. That... was not going to be pleasant. Peter was smiling in way that seemed very unsympathetic.

“Just do it quick, like a band-aid,” he said. Stiles glared, but he took his hand and stood up in one quick painful motion.

“Fuck! You need to get a freakin' sex blanket for the couch or something,” Stiles complained.

“You know, I do have a bed.” 

“Beds are for squares, man. So, shower?” 

“Shower,” Peter agreed. Then proceeded to spend most of said shower rimming Stiles until he was hard enough to continue with Stiles's plan and fuck him. 

They made it to the bed eventually.

–

After another shower (now that they were tired enough for it to not turn into anything more) and a change of sheets, Stiles collapsed on Peter's bed next to him and waited for the sudden onset of dread and horror to come. 

It didn't. 

Stiles took a breath and turned to look at Peter who was idly tracing the lines of Stiles's palm. He looked somehow different. There was a tension missing in the lines of his face and the set of his shoulders. Even when he'd slept next to him before, that tension had been ever-present and it's absence was almost startling. It didn't take long to realize what it was. 

This was Peter without a plan. This was Peter with nothing to plot and no one to manipulate. This was Peter without the weight of an unfinished goal hanging over him. He was finally seeing what it looked like when Peter was actually in the moment and not ten steps ahead. 

Stiles knew it wouldn't last. He knew that men like that couldn't just float on without some purpose to tether them. Peter would find a new goal to work toward because he'd lose himself without one. The only thing Stiles could really do was hope that his new goal would be something reasonable and, you know, not despicably evil.

Part of him wondered if this would be the part where Peter decided he had won and could now move on and leave Stiles behind, just when Stiles had finally given in and let him in. 

“Hey,” Peter said, rolling over to wrap an arm around Stiles and kiss him on his forehead, “You seem to be freaking out. Care to tell me why?” 

“Just...Shit. I don't know. Ignore me.” Stiles mumbled, willing his stupid overly-loud heart to calm. Sometimes he felt like he couldn't keep a single thought to himself.

“Couldn't if I tried. Talk to me.” 

“You... I still don't know what happens next. Do you still want this?” Stiles asked, gesturing between the two of them. Peter looked suitably confused.

“What? Why the hell wouldn't I?” 

“I don't know. You've kind of... I mean, you won, right? So what do you want now?” Stiles asked and he cringed the moment the words left his mouth because he knew they came out about ten million different kinds of wrong. He waited for Peter to get angry or frustrated, but all he heard was a soft sigh next to him and in a lot of ways that was worse. He realized he kept expecting Derek reactions out of Peter because that was what he was used to. Peter was rarely, if ever, the loud and obvious kind of angry. He managed in a single disappointed sigh what Derek couldn't in a thousand shouted words.

“Fuck, that's not really what I meant. I'm just... kinda scared here, okay? Just tell me what happens next.” Stiles said, resting the heels of his hands against his eyes so he didn't have to watch Peter silently judge him. Peter wasn't having any of it, though. He grabbed Stiles's wrists and pinned them to either side of his head.

“Look at me. This is what happens next. You and I are going to take a nap and then I'm going to drive you home so your dad doesn't worry. I'm going to text you with the same annoying frequency I always do because, as you've told me, I have the texting habits of a fourteen year old girl. We're going to go to the beach and kiss in front of all your friends and they're going to deal with it. We're going to fuck and fight and sleep together and hold hands even if it fucking embarrasses the hell out of you. That's what we're going to do next,” Peter told him. Stiles was a little bit stunned and caught somewhere between laughing and crying, so he just stared up at Peter.

“I'm not going anywhere until you inevitably kick me to the curb for a younger saner specimen.” Peter said, leaning into press a kiss against the corner of Stiles's mouth. “Then I probably still won't go anywhere because trying to scare off the younger saner specimen would give me great personal joy.” 

Stiles finally laughed and shook his head because it was kind of hilarious how likely that last scenario was. He couldn't help feeling sorry for this imaginary future boyfriend of his. Dude really didn't stand a chance. 

“Maybe I'll stick around too. Seems like a pretty harsh burden to put on a new guy. I mean, especially when I've already got you broken in and everything.” Stiles said, waggling his eyebrows like an idiot. Peter just rolled his eyes in a way that could only be described as fond. 

Peter set an alarm on his phone to wake them up in a couple of hours and then rearranged them to put Stiles's back against his chest. Apparently bottoming did nothing to change his preference for being the big spoon. 

“Do I really have to hold your hand in public?” Stiles asked. 

“The hand holding is mandatory. It's called compromise.” Peter mumbled, clearly already drifting off.

“Compromise? Doesn't a compromise go both ways?” Stiles asked, already slightly amused because they were drifting into “Peter Logic” territory which was always a hoot (and often a little disturbing). 

“Mmhmm. You touching me in public will keep me from doing crazy things like tattooing 'Property of Peter Hale' on your forehead or barking at any strangers who approach you.” 

Stiles laughed, despite the fact he realized there was a little grain of truth hidden in Peter's words. He supposed it was too much to expect Peter's possessiveness to have magically drifted away in the last couple of months, but if some PDA's were how they had to deal with that, he figured it wasn't the worst thing in the world.

It was certainly better than having a thirty seven year old werewolf boyfriend that barked at strangers.

“If you seriously try either of those things I will kill you. Again,” 

“You didn't kill me in the first place.” Peter said.

“Hey, I helped!” Stiles insisted. 

God, they really were fucked up beyond measure.

–

Saturday crept up on Stiles along with a knotted stomach and a serious tension headache. He kept trying to remember what Derek had told him, but the fear that the pack would see him with Peter and abandon him all over again was very real. He had made up his mind about Peter and he wasn't changing it, but he didn't want to lose everything he'd worked for the past couple of months. Things with the pack seemed... solid. If they couldn't handle it now, then they were never going to be able to handle it. Then again, maybe they never would. Maybe this thing with Peter was asking too much of them. 

Stiles took a deep breath and forced himself to stop spiraling. They were his friends and they'd grown a lot recently. This was going to be okay. He didn't expect everyone to magically be delighted, but they wouldn't kick them out of the pack again. They'd come around one way or another. Plus they were going to be at the beach. How angry can you actually be at the beach? 

Stiles had woken up before dawn partly out of nervousness and partly because they were planning to leave pretty early so they'd have a full day to spend at the beach. Stiles had a backpack ready with a change of clothes, a hoodie, sunscreen, bug spray, and a couple towels. He also had a couple blankets and a bundle of firewood in the back of the jeep. Danny had borrowed his parents SUV and had a lot more room so he was hauling the cooler, a beach umbrella, and yet another bundle of firewood along with everyone's personal belongings. Between himself, Lydia, and Danny, he doubted they'd forget anything, but that didn't prevent him from checking and double checking. He was acting like they weren't going on a trip with a bunch of werewolves who could take off and spend the entire day in the forest with nothing more than the clothes on their back (and sometimes barely that). 

The plan was to pick up Scott and Isaac from Scott's house, then Peter, then Erica before meeting up with the others at the Hale house to make sure they were all good to go. 

The moment he saw Scott, Stiles was howling with laughter. Scott held his arms out and did a slow turn. The crazy bastard had gone and picked up the three wolf moon shorts after Stiles had sent him a picture of them. Stiles hopped out of the car to show off the lime green and turquoise plaid ones he'd gone back to get (mostly because Peter had looked truly horrified when he was looking at them in the store). They fist bumped and hopped in the car, Isaac just laughed and shook his head, perfectly content with his own woefully normal white board shorts.

“Dude, you've worn those before, right? I mean, we're not going to have a wardrobe malfunction where you get wet and them bitches go see through?” Stiles asked.

“They have a lining, Stiles.” Isaac said. Scott had kind of drifted off and Stiles groaned because he was about one hundred percent sure Scott was visualizing Isaac's hypothetical wardrobe malfunction.

“Holy crap, you have to stop before you get a boner, Scott.” Stiles said. Scott blushed and playfully swatted the back of his head. Stiles made them double check that they had everything they needed, playing the part of mother hen for lack of a better person to fill the role. After he had thoroughly nagged them, they headed off toward Peter's apartment. Stiles had already decided to tell Scott about Peter _before_ they picked him up and he made it obvious in his own not-so-subtle way. Stile just had to gather up his balls and go for it.

“So.... I should probably take this time to let you know that um... Me and Peter?” Stiles might have smacked his head against the steering wheel if it weren't for the fact that he was driving.

“You... and Peter?” Scott repeated calmly. 

“Yeah, we're uh... we're kind of trying it out, I guess? You know, being a couple type thing?” Stiles mentally cursed himself for turning everything he said into a damn question.

“Okay... I mean, yeah. If you're sure that's what you want to do,” Scott said. He looked a little concerned, but he seemed to be taking it pretty well considering.

“I gotta say, this isn't hugely surprising to me. You two have been fucking monstrous to deal with. I'm actually slightly relieved,” Isaac said and Stiles winced. Had he seriously been monstrous? Okay, maybe he'd been just a touch moody. 

“He has a point.” Scott said. Yeah, maybe a little more than a _touch_ moody. Pining over creeps was apparently not a good look for Stiles.

“Okay okay, I get it. Well yeah, I just figured I'd let you know before-”

“Before Peter gets in the car and gets all gross and gropey?” Isaac supplied. Scott cringed.

“Please tell me he's not going to do that,” he whined.

“I'd like to, buddy, I really would,” Stiles said, chuckling. Scott groaned and dropped his head against Isaac's shoulder in despair.

They pulled up to Peter's house to find him lounging on the front stoop leading up to his building. Stiles's mouth went a little dry. Peter was wearing the red board shorts Stiles had picked out for him and a white button up left unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up just below his elbow. His usually slicked back hair was loose and pushed back by a pair of aviators on his head. Stiles was starting to feel kind of self-conscious about his obnoxious shorts and his green “come at me bro” tank top. Damn.

“Wow, that's a lot more of you than I ever wanted to see, Peter.” Scott said, shaking his head. Peter ignored him and climbed into the front seat, leaning over to kiss Stiles on the cheek before buckling up and setting his bag by his feet. So far the public displays of affection were a lot tamer than stiles had expected. 

“Nice chest hair,” Isaac chuckled.

“Thank you, Isaac,” Peter said sweetly and Stiles couldn't tell if he was being sincere or sarcastic... or a little of both.

“Well... this has been magical, but we still have Erica to pick up and I'm sure she'd be distraught if you guys didn't save some quips for her,” Stiles sighed. Erica, however, earned all the love by not saying a single snarky thing. In fact, she seemed to give Peter a once over and an approving nod before smushing in next to Scott and Isaac. Stiles was just grateful he wasn't the only person that noticed Peter was kind of crazy hot. He was starting to wonder if he'd just been imagining it.

“Peter and Stiles are together, by the way,” Isaac casually tossed out as they turned toward the preserve.

“Damn it!” Erica cursed and Stiles tensed up, “Fucking Boyd.” she mumbled, pulling her phone out of her bag.

“Want to clue me in on the crazy here?” Stiles asked. 

“We had a betting pool going on when you guys would get together. Lydia said it would be during the trip, I said after, and Boyd was the only one who guessed it would happen before the trip.” she explained, apparently texting Boyd and Lydia to tell them the results, “You guys couldn't wait like one day?” 

“Um... sorry?” Stiles said before double taking, “Wait, seriously?” 

“Yep,” Erica said, “Oh come on, don't act so surprised. You assholes are about as subtle as a Vegas showgirl. Either you two were going to get together or someone was going to get murdered in a fit of sexually frustrated rage. That was Jackson's guess, actually...” Erica trailed off and continued texting, laughing at something someone had sent in reply.

Lydia being involved in the betting pool was definitely the most surprising part. They had certainly been on better terms lately, but he still hadn't expected her to be actually betting on him getting together with Peter. Then again, assuming they'd get together didn't mean she was going to be happy about it. 

They managed to get to the Hale house before the others and Stiles mentally congratulated himself on that. Then again, he did kind of luck out on getting the laid back group in his car. He couldn't imagine who was the bigger pain in the ass getting ready; Lydia, Jackson, or Derek. 

By the time Danny pulled up in the SUV Stiles had already double checked the supplies in the trunk and made everyone reassure him that they hadn't forgotten a towel or something. He was on fucking _point_ and he was kind of enjoying being the one with his shit together for once. Lydia and Jackson were glaring at each other over Boyd, who had somehow been tucked in the middle of them, and it wasn't hard to guess what had kept them. 

Danny hopped out of the car and took a deep cleansing breath, “Next time _I'm_ doing the seating arrangements.”

“So, I guess congratulations are in order, Boyd? Erica tells us you won a bet?” Peter drawled, his arm thrown around Stiles's waist. Boyd smiled and held out his hand as Erica walked up and grouchily slapped a couple of bills into it. Stiles choked out a laugh. They really _had_ made a damn bet and they were actually paying up. He shouldn't have expected anything less from them, he supposed.

Lydia walked up to Stiles and Peter with purpose in her step and Stiles braced himself. It certainly wasn't reassuring to know that she was already in a shitty mood thanks to whatever petty argument she and Jackson had on the way there. She narrowed her eyes and tossed her hair back before speaking directly to Peter.

“You should know that I spent a lot of time researching the spell that brought you back to life. I think you'll understand how proud I am to say that I now know how to unbind the spell and put you back in the ground for good.” Peter nodded and actually looked a little impressed and maybe a touch worried. Stiles opened his mouth to speak, but Lydia stopped him with a raised hand.

“You hurt him and that's exactly what I'll do.” she finished with a terrifying smile.

“Fair enough.” Peter said with a shrug. Stiles honestly couldn't quite decide if that had gone well or not. 

The group in Danny's car double checked their own supplies while Danny and Stiles talked about the route they were going to take to the beach. At one point, Stiles managed to catch Derek's eye and gave him a wary smile. Derek nodded at him. It wasn't much, but it was enough to confirm that they were still okay. Things weren't falling apart around him. Peter's hand was warm and reassuring against his back and they were all still there and still together. Still pack.

–

When they got to the beach Stiles didn't hesitate to take full advantage of Peter's werewolf strength. He loaded him up with the wood, the blankets, and both their backpacks before grinning and walking ahead, arms blissfully empty. 

“So this is how it's going to be?” Peter asked from behind the pile he was carrying.

“Yup!” Stiles shouted back, popping the “p” as hard as he could.

“You _will_ pay for this,” Peter grumbled.

“You know, I have no idea why we were ever against this relationship,” Erica laughed, patting Peter on the back as she walked by.

“You will _all_ pay for this.” Peter added, glaring in Erica's direction.

“Not so fast.” Derek said, handing Stiles the beach umbrella and a tote bag. Stiles pouted, but took them with minimal complaint.

“HA!” Peter shouted, still muffled by the blankets tucked up under his chin.

“Shut up, Peter.” Derek grumbled, but Stiles could have sworn he was holding back a laugh. Dear lord, he would not survive if Derek and Peter ever got along well enough to gang up on him. That was a terrifying thought.

They found a nice clear spot on the beach and started spreading out blankets and setting up the big beach umbrella. The moment they were settled, Stiles and Scott yanked their shirts off and took off toward the water at full speed. They still approached going to the beach the same way they had since they were kids. Stiles, however, was stopped short as Peter grabbed him by the back of his shorts. He yelped as he rebounded back toward Peter.

“Forgetting something?” Peter asked, holding the sunblock out to Stiles. 

“Yes dad,” Stiles grumbled, snatching the sunblock from Peter.

“Oh my god, that is so incredibly gross,” Lydia said with a dramatic fake shiver. Stiles blushed a little, he honestly hadn't even thought before he said it.

“I wouldn't say that. I mean, Stiles's dad is actually pretty hot,” Erica said. Now it was Stiles's turn to shiver.

“Wow. I regret everything and you guys are definitely _not_ my friends. I'm going to put this sunblock on and then I'm going to go drown myself in the ocean, thanks.” Stiles said. Peter rolled his eyes and snatched the bottle back so he could rub some onto Stiles's shoulders.

Stiles waited patiently for Peter to finish, glancing over his shoulder to give Peter a look when he seemed to be taking a little more time and pleasure than was strictly necessary. Peter just leered at him and continued until he finally threw the sunblock back in Stiles's bag.

“Okay, good?” Stiles asked. Peter nodded. Isaac and Scott were already knee deep in the water. Lydia and Erica were laid out on the blankets; Erica was sunbathing while Lydia seemed content to avoid the sun in favor of the shade the umbrella provided. Derek, Danny, Boyd, and Jackson seemed to be setting up to play volleyball and Danny was making the others promise not to abuse the werewolf strength thing. Stiles was pretty sure he could hold his own anyway, human or not. 

“Come on,” Peter said, stepping in front of Stiles and motioning for him to jump up on his back. He'd already taken off his sunglasses and his shirt. 

“This better not be some Twilight shit. You try to run up a tree with me and I'm breaking up with you.” Stiles complained as he jumped up and wrapped his legs around Peter's waist. Peter just laughed and took off toward the water with Stiles on his back, and yeah, Stiles had to cut Bella Swan some slack because that was actually pretty damn fun.

They got about waist deep before Peter turned and collapsed backwards into the water, taking Stiles down with him. Stiles stood up and spat a mouthful of salty water out before splashing Peter with everything he had.

“You ass, you're supposed to warn me before you dunk me!” Stiles whined.

“What fun would that be?” Peter said, grinning as he wrapped Stiles up in his arms and pulled him in for a kiss. It tasted like salt and a little like the sunblock from Stiles's face, but it was nice. It was nice to be able to just kiss Peter out in the open without feeling guilty or miserable about it. 

Stiles spent the better part of the day splashing around in the water. His mother used to tease him about how she could never get him out of the water for anything and that much certainly hadn't changed. He was only coerced back onto the sand by sight of Derek buried up to his neck. Apparently Lydia, Danny, and Erica had convinced him to let them bury him and he was now getting a shapely pair of sand boobs molded over his chest by Danny and Lydia while Erica worked on giving him an obscenely large sand penis. 

“Oh my god, this is priceless. Tell me we have pictures of this?” Stiles laughed, shaking water from his hair.

“Oh yeah.” Isaac said, holding up his phone and waving it.

Derek growled and went to lunge for the camera before being pushed back down by his shoulders.

“You're going to mess up our masterpiece. Sit still!” Erica scolded.

“Someone get me a drink if I'm going to be stuck here.” Derek said with a resigned sigh. Stiles went over to the cooler and chucked a can of soda to Danny, leaving it to him to figure out how the hell Derek was going to drink without use of his hands. The end result had Derek drenched in orange Crush as he finally dug his way out of the sand to go rinse his face off. Stiles was laughing so hard that he almost choked on his own drink. 

They eventually ended up back in the water and Stiles talked some of them into playing chicken. Peter and Stiles managed to take down Jackson and Lydia, but they were pretty handily beaten by the unstoppable duo of Danny and Derek. They'd been trying to keep it fair by having werewolves carrying humans, but Stiles was pretty sure Derek and Danny's forces combined wasn't fair by any measurement. Stupid in-shape jerks. 

By the time the sun went down they were all pretty damn exhausted, soaked, and cold. They'd eaten lunch out of the cooler, but now they were all pretty ready for warm clothes and s'mores by the fire. Stiles, of course, was the last one out of the water and therefore the last one to go change into dry clothes. He left his wet swim trunks in a plastic bag in the jeep, pulled on his hoodie, and headed back to where the bonfire was now burning bright on the beach. 

While he'd been with Derek, Stiles had always been pretty conscious of the way Derek reacted to fire. He'd sort of expected him to get freaked out or weird, but Derek had always been, surprisingly, just fine. Stiles hadn't really thought about the fact that maybe he should have been more worried about that when it came to Peter. After all, it wasn't Derek who had been in the house when it burned down. Peter had actually been there and had actually been burned alive... twice. 

Stiles, of course, hadn't really thought of the possibility that a giant bonfire might bother Peter until he realized Peter was nowhere to be found amongst the rest of the pack. Derek noticed him looking and nodded toward a point down the beach a ways. Stiles started walking and found Peter a good distance away. He was sitting in the sand and staring out at the water, noticeably angled away from the bonfire. Stiles was a little startled by just how small Peter looked against the wide expanse of the beach. 

“You okay?” Stiles asked. Peter barely looked up at him and he was breathing heavy, mouth sealed tight like he didn't dare try to speak. Stiles sat down, but didn't reach out to him. Not when he could see the way his claws were digging into his palms. Instead he just sat there, silently waiting for Peter's claws to retract and his breathing to return to normal. 

“I'm sorry. I didn't even think about... you know.” Stiles said, gesturing lamely toward the fire.

“Me neither.” Peter replied, his voice strangely hoarse. Stiles realized the only time Peter had been really faced with fire after the Hale house burned down was when they'd set him alight with the molotov cocktails. He probably hadn't realized he would react like this in a normal everyday situation. Suddenly Stiles's joke about helping kill Peter didn't seem quite as funny when he was sitting next to him watching him flex his hands until they stopped shaking. It was so easy to forget that Peter wasn't invincible when he spent so much time trying to convince everyone else that he was.

Stiles finally figured it would be safe to touch Peter so he leaned in and rested his head against Peter's shoulder. He'd changed into jeans and a tee shirt and was blissfully warm and dry while Stiles was still a little chilly and damp under his own dry clothes. Stiles gave up on being timid and instead threw himself over Peter's lap, pushing him back against the sand and clinging to him like a leech to try and suck up as much warmth as he could.

“You know, if you're trying to distract me you're doing an excellent job.” Peter said, slipping his warm hands up under Stiles's hoodie.

“Mm, nope. Just being a selfish heat thief.” Stiles said, nuzzling into Peter's neck.

“Come on, we can go back by the fire. I think I was just a little startled. I'll be fine.” Peter said, sitting up with Stiles still draped over his lap.

“Are you sure?” Stiles asked doubtfully.

“Sure enough.” Peter said with a shrug.

They walked back toward the bonfire, Peter gripping Stiles's hand just shy of too tight. They ended up sitting a healthy distance away and even still, Stiles could tell that Peter was uncomfortable. He was completely silent, lips pressed into a white line and his body twitching any time the fire crackled. Stiles appreciated him trying, but he kind of felt like a douche bag for letting him sit there like that. Stiles suddenly realized that the only people talking anymore were Danny and Lydia and even they seemed uncomfortable. It occurred to him that it was pretty likely the rest of the werewolves could actually feel Peter's distress through the pack bond. It was Derek that finally ended up doing something about it.

“Well as fun as this is, I don't actually plan on living at the beach like a hobo,” Derek said, standing up and stretching.

“Says the former hobo,” Stiles quipped, but he stood up too and started kicking sand on the fire. The bonfire had been big enough that it took several of them working together to put it out, but when they did there was a palpable sense of relief throughout the pack. Even Peter managed to to relax a little and wrapped himself around Stiles, tucking his face in against his neck. 

Stiles leaned in toward him and let out a breath. Honestly, he was sort of in awe of his pack. This was what he'd always thought a pack should feel like. Somehow seeing the pack's reaction to Peter's distress had sealed it for him. They weren't just pack in name, they were connected in a very real way. It didn't escape Stiles's attention the way the others casually bumped against Peter as they hauled the stuff back up to the cars. 

The ride back to Beacon Hills was quiet, except for the noises of the three knocked out werewolves softly snoring in the back seat. Peter was still awake and staring at the place where their hands were entwined over his thigh.

“Thank you.” Peter whispered.

“For what?” Stiles asked.

“For giving me another chance. For giving me a pack again.” 

“Wasn't just me.” Stiles said, gesturing to the three sleeping in the backseat and Danny's SUV driving behind them.

“I know, but it started with you. So thank you.” 

“You're welcome. Now stop being nice and say something creepy before I start worrying that you're a cyborg replacement or a clone or something.” Stiles said, completely incapable of letting a nice moment go by unsullied.

“How about I tell you that I'm going to rim you until you cry when we get home?” Peter asked, a devious grin spreading across his face.

“That's more like it.” Stiles said.

“Ew.” he heard Scott whine from the back.

“Hot.” Erica mumbled drowsily, prompting another “ew” from both Scott and Isaac that time.

“Go back to sleep, children.” Stiles scolded. 

Yep, that was definitely more like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Derek's POV by way of an epilogue.


	17. Derek (Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it. Have some feels.

**Two Years Later**

Two years is not a very long time. In fact, it goes by in the span of a blink and suddenly you have no fucking clue how you got where you are. 

That's not entirely true. Derek had a pretty good idea how he got where he was, but that didn't make it any less believable. 

A new house stood on the Hale land now. Derek had decided against trying to build a copy of his old house and instead just went with something open and spacious that suited his own tastes. He had been worried at first that having a pack of young werewolves running through the place would take it's toll and that he'd be chasing everyone around with coasters and reminding them to take their shoes off in the house like some manic housewife, but apparently there was nothing like building something with your own two hands to make you respect and care for it. The entire pack had put time, sweat, and tears into building the new house and Derek loved that his pack shared his pride in the home they'd made for themselves. 

The house had room for every member of the pack, but currently the only permanent residents were Erica and Boyd, Isaac, and himself. Danny and Scott spent almost enough time at the house to consider it their permanent residence, but both of them stayed in the dorms at their respective schools once college started up for them. 

After more than a little “gentle” pressure from his pack, Derek ended up back in school himself. Before Laura died, he'd actually been taking classes for nursing. The pack had been... more than a little surprised to hear that. Oddly enough, it had been Peter that made Derek decide to go to school for nursing in the first place. 

Derek had always taken healing for granted, being a werewolf. He’d never really spent time in a hospital or a doctor’s office until then. Sometimes the humans in his family would get sick, but it had never been much more than a cold, flu, maybe a sinus infection. They’d been pretty lucky, all things considered. Then he saw his uncle in that hospital (back before their was any bitterness between them) barely clinging to life, and his world tilted on its axis a little. 

Laura and Derek spent a lot of time in the hospital at first, clinging desperately to the only family they had left. Derek watched the doctors and nurses with rapt attention, asking them question after question until they likely wanted to kick him out. They never did though. Some of them were nicer than others and would talk to him a little when they had time. Eventually Laura decided they had to move on when it became evident that Peter wasn’t going anywhere, but the seed had already been planted. After he graduated high school, he enrolled in a local college and started working on his degree before Laura went missing and he found himself back in Beacon Hills.

After Derek told the pack, they went into full mission mode. They started looking for local schools with a nursing program and helped him fill out applications and find out if he could transfer any of his old credits. Somehow the idea of starting over like that had never really occurred to Derek until then, but he had run out of excuses to keep putting off his life. The pack was stable, he had a real home, and he had enough money left over after building the house that he wouldn't have to take out any student loans. 

Of course, the first time the pack saw him in the scrubs he had to wear to his clinicals, they nearly passed out with laughter. Danny had convinced him not to strangle his betas by telling him the nurse getup was actually pretty hot, but it was a damn close thing. 

After two years of being with the pack, Danny asked Derek for the bite. After the chaos of turning Isaac, Erica, and Boyd within only a couple weeks, Derek was a little gun shy, but he knew this was different. This was how it was _supposed_ to work. Derek insisted that they wait until the full moon and do it with the whole pack present, the way his family would have done it. The risk of Danny rejecting the bite was far less than it might have been due to him having already been accepted into the pack as a human. The bonds he'd already made with the pack and with Derek would strengthen him for the bite and lessened the chances of it killing him.

The full moon was the traditional time to bite a new werewolf as the moon's power would help the new werewolf heal and transition quickly. The downside was that it was basically the werewolf equivalent of teaching someone to swim by tossing them in the deep end. Derek had been spending most of his time lately teaching Danny the basics of control and preparing him for the full moon. Having the whole pack there to keep him in line would help, but Derek wanted to be ready for anything so he was also drilling the pack on what to do if the worst happened and Danny lost control. Derek, Isaac, Scott, Erica, and Boyd would be responsible for keeping close to Danny while Peter and Jackson would make sure their human mates stayed safe. Of course, they made sure to keep that last discussion out of the earshot of said humans. Lydia and Stiles both knew well enough to stick to the one werewolf per human buddy system, but that didn't mean they would react favorably to talk of them needing their boyfriends to protect them.

Lydia and Stiles were intent on making the full moon ceremony perfect. They'd been researching the old traditions and ceremonies and going over plans. For Stiles, a lot of this research consisted of grilling Peter for information which of course meant the information was slow to come thanks to... distractions. 

Peter and Stiles had remained surprisingly solid over the last couple years. After Stiles graduated high school, Derek and Scott helped him tell his dad about werewolves and his involvement with the pack. This included an explanation as to why Peter was neither dead nor a half burnt vegetable. The revelation that Stiles and Peter were a couple didn't come till later. Stiles had been putting it off as long as possible, but after their relationship survived his first semester of college, he figured it was time. The sheriff took the news about werewolves existing a lot better than he took the news of his son dating one of them... not to mention one of them that was closer to his own age than his son's. 

Stiles and Peter broke up for all of a week after the sheriff's epic meltdown and spent the entire time making everyone within a mile radius fucking _miserable_. Derek didn't know the details of how they got back together (and he was fairly certain he didn't want to), but one day Stiles told his dad to put on his big boy pants and deal with the fact that his son was a grown man and could have a relationship with anyone he wanted. The sheriff still wasn't a particularly big fan of Peter's to this day, but he seemed to begrudgingly accept that Peter wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Still didn't stop him from making group gatherings insanely tense and hysterically awkward whenever he was around, though. 

It did help a little that Peter was always on his best behavior whenever Stiles's dad was around. Derek had half expected him to make inappropriate jokes and generally try to push the sheriff's buttons, but he supposed he should have known better. Of the things he'd learned about his uncle through his and Stiles's relationship, the fact that Peter was completely whipped had been first and foremost. They still bickered and gave each other shit, but it was pretty much common knowledge that Peter had a weak spot about a mile wide when it came to Stiles. Peter knew that the sheriff's opinion of him could make or break their relationship and that he'd have to maintain civility if he didn't want to lose Stiles again. If that meant playing the part of the perfect gentleman when the sheriff was around, then so be it.

The sheriff was pretty well aware that Peter's act was mostly bullshit, but he seemed content to accept the gesture. The sheriff had, at one point, taken Derek aside for a very awkward conversation that ended in Derek assuring him that while Peter was definitely a douche bag, he cared about Stiles and would genuinely rather eat rusty nails than hurt him. It was a little difficult for Derek to say it, but he honestly believed it to be true. The sheriff seemed to accept it and stopped carrying wolfsbane bullets whenever he came around to visit, much to Peter and Stiles's relief... and ok, everyone else's too.

With that behind them, Peter and Stiles had plenty of time and energy to devote to nauseating the entire pack. No one could really say their relationship was normal, but you couldn't deny the fact that they worked surprisingly well together. The first time they had a fight the whole pack was nearly wolfed out, convinced that it would end in violence. They weren't exactly wrong. Stiles ended up shoving Peter against a wall and practically mauling his face with something only a velociraptor could rightfully consider a kiss. By the time Peter had picked Stiles up and started carrying him up to the room they'd claimed in Derek's house, the pack had made the quick (and wise) decision to take an impromptu trip to the movies. 

The conversation in the car on the way to the theater had consisted of the betas begging Derek to ban Stiles and Peter from having sex in the house. He told them he couldn't really do that unless he banned _everyone_ from having sex in the house (which would have likely caused a mutiny). Jackson had brought up the excellent point that their sex life was so much _grosser_ than everyone else's (and Derek wouldn't argue with that, he'd been scarred by overhearing their “dirty talk” once already), but the motion was shot down in the end.

To this day, Derek doubted that decision.

Luckily the two of them kept their sexcapades confined to Peter's apartment except in “emergency situations”. Stiles had clarified that situations that fell into the realm of sex emergencies included (but were not limited to): makeup sex, one of them doing something “awesome”, Peter wearing “that stupid shirt”, and the Mets winning a game. 

Derek had since learned which “stupid shirt” Stiles was talking about and no longer allowed Peter in the house if he was wearing it. A man could only stand so much.

When they weren't being disgusting, the two of them could be surprisingly helpful. Truth be told, it was a little intimidating to watch them work together on something. They'd start bouncing ideas off each other in an effort to work out some puzzle or another and they'd do this terrifying thing where they'd start talking really fast and completing each other's thoughts in weird partial sentences. Lydia was usually the only one who could keep up or even translate when they started doing that (on occasions when she hadn't come to the same conclusion a step ahead of them). 

Currently they had put their usefulness toward Danny's biting ceremony. Peter was able to fill in the blanks on the Hale packs own traditions as no one had been bitten into their pack while Derek was alive. The last person bitten into the Hale pack had been a cousin's husband, but that was before Derek's time. 

Peter had been been strangely unhelpful at first, shutting down whenever Derek asked him. Stiles ended up explaining to Derek that Peter's wife had been planning to take the bite herself if their child turned out to be a werewolf (apparently carrying a werewolf baby to term was about the best guarantee you could get that someone would take to the bite), but obviously they never got past the planning stage. Eventually Peter eased up and starting sharing, no doubt after some coaxing on Stiles's part. 

Derek had been strangely irritated and almost jealous at first to learn that Stiles knew things about his uncle, and by extension his family, that he didn't, but he'd come to terms with that too. He and Peter's relationship had stabilized over time, but they both accepted the fact that they would never really be close. There were things Derek didn't know about Peter and plenty of things Peter didn't know about Derek. Having Stiles to bridge the gap between them had given them a chance to learn things about each other they likely never would have otherwise. Maybe things would change in the future, but the for time being that was enough. 

The full moon they'd planned to do the ceremony on arrived with no last minute break downs or catastrophes, much to Derek's relief. The first order of the day was a huge barbecue that Stiles and Lydia had set up. They'd invited the sheriff, Melissa McCall, and even Allison, though they would all be leaving before the sun went down. It wasn't any different than your average barbecue, other than maybe having a bit more meat than was usually reasonable for a group their size. Danny actually looked a little green at the pile of rare steak and ribs Isaac dropped in front of him.

“Eat up, buddy. Trust me, you're gonna need the fuel later.” Isaac said with a wink. Danny just shook his head, but started cutting into one of the steaks all the same. Derek sat by him the whole time, mostly to avoid the terrifying scene that was Stiles tearing into a plate of ribs. How he managed to shovel down that much food without taking a single breath, Derek didn't know. Sometimes Derek thought Stiles was a more intimidating carnivore than any of the actual werewolves. They'd talked about Stiles taking the bite before, but he'd insisted on tabling the discussion until he was through with college. Derek didn't think college was Stiles's real reason for putting the decision off, but he wasn't going to push. That was a decision he would have to make all on his own.

Danny was a ball of nervous energy by the time the sun set. He was obviously trying his best to appear calm and relaxed, but the pack stayed close; constantly giving him reassuring touches and leaning into him. Derek would have been lying if he said he wasn't a little nervous himself. This was his chance to do this the right way. This was his chance to turn someone with ample preparation instead of the agitated rush to build a pack back when he had the threat of an Alpha pack over his head and no clue what he was doing. Not to mention, as much as he had faith that Danny would take to the bite, there was always the chance he wouldn't. Just thinking about it had Derek walking over to put his arm around Danny, reassuring him with the presence of his Alpha and reassuring himself with the physical contact.

As the moon started to rise, the pack made their way out to a clearing far out in the preserve. By now, the betas had full control of themselves during the full moon so the only thing they had to worry about was Danny. They all gathered in a circle and most of the betas stripped down to the bare minimum amount of clothing they usually wore during the full moon, including Danny. 

The ceremony was honestly very simple. Some packs went all out while others didn't make much of a fanfare about giving the bite at all. Derek, like his family before him, stuck to the basics. He wanted to make it special, but a big elaborate ritual wasn't really his style. All the betas shifted and waited patiently for Derek to begin. 

“Danny, do you accept this pack as your own? As your family and your kin?” Derek asked. Erica had joked that the questions asked during the ceremony made it sound like Danny was getting married to the pack, but Derek had argued that it wasn't that far from the truth.

“Yes.” 

“Do you accept the gift of your Alpha's bite and all the power and responsibility that comes with it?” (Derek shot a quick glare at Stiles to ensure he wouldn't make the same lame Spiderman joke he'd made the first time he heard that question.)

“Yes.” 

At Danny's acceptance, Derek stepped forward and finally shifted like the rest of his pack. He nodded to Danny to make sure he was ready and Danny swallowed and took a deep breath before nodding back. Derek didn't draw it out. He bit Danny on his side, the same place he'd bitten all of his other betas. Danny gasped, but surprisingly didn't scream. No one would have blamed him if he had. Getting the bite was far from painless.

The moment Derek pulled away, Scott and Jackson were behind Danny, helping him down to the ground. The pack quickly moved in to touch and comfort him. With the full moon shining and his pack surrounding him, all Danny had to do now was wait. 

As expected, the full moon accelerated the process and the moment they noticed Danny's bite starting to slowly close, the entire pack let out a sigh of relief and a rush of nervous laughter. Derek hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath. He'd been expecting the other shoe to drop for a while now and Danny's turning going wrong would have been one hell of a drop. As the wound started to heal, Danny's eyes were already starting to flash a bright golden yellow. 

Derek grabbed Danny's hands and helped him to his feet. He could hear the race of Danny's heart, but he hadn't lost control yet. He squeezed Derek's hands a little tighter as his features began to shift into his beta form for the first time. 

“You ready to run?” Derek asked. Danny let out an affirmative growl and the pack shouted with glee. This was the part they'd been looking forward to. The whole pack would run together for Danny's first full moon. Lydia hopped up on Jackson's back and Stiles ran alongside Peter, a safe distance from Danny, until they were sure he was in control.

Derek took off at a run and lead them all out into the forest. He let himself soak up the feeling. His pack was behind him, whole and healthy and strong and it made him feel stronger too. He knew that he appreciated this moment all the more for the pain he'd been through. He had something he never thought he'd have again. He had a family. 

Derek let out a howl that shook the trees and felt something course through his body; a rush of power that he'd never felt before. As easy as letting out a breath, Derek felt his body shift, his jaw extending and his torso elongating as he dropped to all fours. He felt the itch and tingle of fur shooting down his body and with a kick, managed to get out of the shorts he'd been wearing. His pack had stopped in their tracks behind them and he looked back at them with glowing red eyes to see them staring in awe. He had no idea how he'd done it, but after accepting that he just might not have an Alpha form, Derek had finally found it.

Derek let out another howl and his pack returned it, even the humans, as they took off into the forest once again. 

**FIN**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sobbing. This has been muchos crazy. Back when I first wrote My Skin Went Sour Long Ago, I never intended to make it anything more than shameless Steter porn, but I'm really glad I did. Thank you to everyone who commented and followed this wack ass story :) You guys have no idea how happy it made me. 
> 
> I'm definitely not entirely done with this series. I think I still have a lot of stories to tell in this 'verse. I mean, at minimum I'm gonna have to throw down a couple porny Steter bits. Plus, NURSE!DEREK, lol. Not to mention, more Danny, especially now that he's a werewolf. Maybe we can finally get some Danny/Derek? 
> 
> But yeah, this is it for the time being, so thank you! I really hope you didn't hate my little epilogue :)

**Author's Note:**

> Check out [my tumblr](http://cultofcastiel.tumblr.com/) over here. Pretty much a Teen Wolf and Supernatural fandom blog, if you're into that sorta thing :)


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